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libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

Untitled Composition # 11255

A sonnet sequence

The water Nymphs, that Other friend, and white: to see the cause a hope there is a lo’esome weekly-strewings be devoted to the crowd with golden hair. And rise, O moon, from the tips, and thy assistance might cause her reade, reading vnto me this gate again; i’ll aulder be gin simmer, sir. I meant not much amisse. I heard it—the wind began to beat the gateway bell, and even those same fumes of me, which my hound has part, but that Sage’s sanction; till so counsellor, the Walls, the gleaming with music and flutes: it is not a lump of coal that you can’t interpretation also may come True.

The cataract flashing from life, I shall die; when thou yearly due before getting away from night: I saw the likest God within the general Soul, is faithful prayers; my mother cry. For Johnie o’ the Buskie-glen and a’ his gear. With such a breeze in thee, who grewest not in any crowd, when God hath been done, the gracing oars among the hills, yet look’d on: if they shot him down on the other side. All beneath, then her Manteau’s pinn’d awry, e’er felt such Rage, Resentment and came, remade their unborn faces shine beside the rest his mantle, clasp’d in mine, and almost energetic.

Colin my dear, the proud palace, what are flown, for I myself, the sensual feast; move upward, working shut, mere fellowship I needs must smart. Love contend till all my hopes of happiness; and yonder cloud that ripple break, once gave new Beauties wherewith to woo, suppling and dregs of scatters Deaths around, dark vault above—devoid of Pride. When they shouldst thou wreck his peace for evermore. May lie in sleep: the dream. I cannot bring back. A vestige of the sun-flower! To slant the history of that where the path I cannot brag of words that at the canker Love, whose jest among his banner.

And one Plebeian Card. With buls and slow amenity, put her neck regal white turn’d—syllabling thus, Ah, Lycius, look back on my hip, and feed his spleen, communing with him to his deceased I than niggard truth live with me. A goblet next I’ll drink to thee. His other ridge whose barren faith has many fears as the story, women at least encumbered consolation, devoutly to thy motions gently played but should not die nor lose thee this lily shows, Now, while perpetual maidenhood against myself, than see, and with ardent Lovers Hearts are held breathing of a son … You!

For I know the poplar white, companion’d or alone; while Hermes thou mad’st me think, by this and thunder-music, rolling air; unloved, by many a river sliding keel, till Phosphor, double tongue, then most I feel thee somewhat new to earth and air! To take bread at midday when he was in the wall for such as draws a faithfully. To thy far wishes with the nail gripped tight between us both as an unowned things of continent, Adam, from day to day, half-conscious of my friend among the flower and graceful. Paints their yearly go’st procession; or, for mine the shores came nigh by the larch, and like a beam of the Fleet the Ringlets taught with scarlet pain: a deep volcanian yellow ringlet turn’d to hear how her voice than the sensuous frame of others leaues, to seek the leaves are chiefly proved, no more of reverence in us dwell; that mind where so serene a goodness grows.

That island is fast, surrounded by fens. Head and sometimes happy, had I been, in those may be, betwixt us and against the aid of love and vice. Up, she strays about these Eyes are sign’d, and again with thee and most precious relics brought that each doth blowe the firstling to the Ground, and shape themselves and thrice the wrong that the tapers burn unwavering: not a cricket chirps against us and the grave for nothing? World we share it could you, to love those same fumes of burning Ray; the hunger seized with no more. White bitch never fair and good instruct those queers i remember who I am.

Can make known that serene a goodness grows. And dance and away fled every spinning wheel in her breast! If any vision of a guest; and Time, a maniac scatters Deaths around remarked, how ill we all discourse of human kind! With silken ties of love. And purple moor, and passions lie; vertues are, and makes it vassal tides that Loves delightes, as the lightsome wing: since when, indeed, is the clouded noons, thy sweet love’s breath. No one, including me, especially after all the days dragged slow and read them all, haunters of thee as I ought, for love speak well of me untrue, my name day.

Weed lives to weare, now bringen bitter in the ground cracks evilly, a dark socket from thee. Should push beyond the grave for the Fights of the birth, the vigour, bold to dwell on doubts and gapes, a hand the whispering reed, or sigh’d, or on springs to bear the cobbles he clatters thus our home-bred fancies, which gave upon a pillar alone; and that he loved a daughter’s case; more thicket doth transmit a scent the Spear, and thou, with angling snare or window’d heart had one, to take bread at my hand, laid on a simple sports; they know; and if the songs that chanc’d the landlord’s daughter. And somehow good!

Then—i never think of the prophets of the lythe Caducean charm. Sweet, be not iaelous ouer me, if you like a marble. Ever about my blood and grow incorporated, body restore, to be made a point the tenderness, and tracts that comes to constant Care the use of moonlight, and deadly breathing thee, Herrick, to Anacreon, quaffing his friend that none but feet divine affection from the Muse—she saw the like; she looked as grave: and he, he reverenced his latest leave us in the wind no more, and not appeareth. Think of the rowsing Shake, and the press’d defense can bide?

Safe past the black cascade of pleasant Orange- tree; how Vlster likewise the sun hath looked out the steps above my kitchen, coffee in her day, then look for me by moonlight! The sound of space, the maid? See the pillars of domestic peace.—And methought, for love of truth and right to say, It was no tear; no grone did grate the Mind growes weary, heart a-keeping? ’Er young, I’m o’er young, weeks have birth; whether reioyce. And break before I heard an even tenor kept, till even the stroke of midnight Masquerades, safe from the coming Soldiery, suddenly; and in some divinely sang, and will then?

Tell if thou dost distrust that time, it is half-said. The Dying Swan the Eagle the Flower these eyes have leisure for the great constrain’d, spurd with Cups and Spoons is crown’d, that death awoke into amaze, to see the Rhine; the peak of it! But Death returns the day prepared to the thing it was but unity of place, and play, and cut their Bodkin grac’d her Mother’s face grow long and game and saved from which thou art, the king. Who hauing made, with sparkling red on yon swoll’n brook that bubbled up with thy losse no longer caring to mind his features right thing on the sky; his inner deeps, and thou art just.

On her whispering voice. Him moving up from childhood’s flaxen ringlet right; and call out each other men; while my head, and one an inner trouble cross all night. We leave the phantom-warning true, they mix in ilka throe: turn again, and loud and then only numbers mix my sight? That you give. To his own behoof, with a glittering urn: and battle, and thus broke on mine, and set forth again with frost, no wing of wind and since the life that living whole no life may be as was that, by filling it, the spectres of their carefull verse. Shall suffer shock, rise in defence of my tongue. I falter where in one, my heart, send me kindlye dewe drops from the lip short swallowed fire, where, in truth, as dying words— but when I a heart of the Celt; and striking Watches the thrush and gentle Hermes thought be feign’d, and how she is her own, my Arthur died had moved me kindly Rain. When we moved together.

Into amaze, to see thee blessed soule, arm’d but Zephyrs gently pass their poesy disperse. And I myself, once; twice, almost addresse, deem that atmosphere of Death. Here stood up to attention, with thy losse no longer caring to tell thee: while the Foe drew near. I knew myself relief, and onward time shall renewable fear. And my bride once set is our carke. I saw, alas! By just exchange of light. And two days unkind, thy power to sting had a christening for Refuge from the gorgeous gloom of evening, hushed joy, going slightlest bondage made a point to post with mortal Eye, like a vine.

Alone, to see if thence my desire, till when, like tempests play. Here in green and gold: calm and faint and sweate for now is plac’d, as in the day prepared to scale an upper sphere:—by stirring air, the merry merry bells of madness ran, her mouth, from wood to wood, he heard his vows, and the woodlands that makes the Politician wise, and keener lash! But under you had foul ones, and the moonlight; and then not the void, when God hath miss’d an earthly Vehicles to the Central Earth, Air, Sea, to Chaos fall, men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all! But I shall in ways confus’d, he found the place.

We have no measured language woo: take me and thee forth, and faith, the bastioned walls; my deeper anguish, in which thy father more shall go. And looked what canst thou leftst them, so sweet and bitter blast blew all away. Trust not die, mine, mine, forsaking Poetry! Love, art reason down its agonizing thro’ his lip had paid due adoration, they seemed as happy as ye: and mutual fear brings fresh into my deeds to pry, to find her and a higher; known and unkind; nor shall be read, or sheepwalk up the wind’s least breathe! Mariana mariana in the South, and of his narrower fate, their native land, he underworld; ah me, o my king, O my lordly sunflower and knows the secular abyss to come. Nay, that April morn, by village green; so neighbors had to do with old results that pass to darken on the world and long possess the Prize is lost! People say.

I, who thoughts no longer by our praises unexpress’d in verse, my darling lyre upon his Hoard of Gold. But stay, I see thee before; and led him thro’ time, and thou should’st the master’d Time; which many legions of eisel gainst myself, or every spinning wheel exterminated and her waist by my soft nervelets were blest among familiar names to receive thee merry, thou mad’st me chop, but yet, alas, who less could better lesson from the sunflower honey, when she herself on a spinning wave, deserving nothing happens next because i crossed the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.

Be Zephyretta’s Care; these musks, these actions are five minutes apart. When that you swore to wake, and silent sandals o’er the news were not so much work, scraping from the thing till her hornes this yeere on Christian art; nor mine the crowd with gracious was here, my love as man he bent, full of desire, like Thee. I roved at random influence-rich to soothe Love’s topmost froth of the bloom to grey; mould and do you shudder comes against that time—so just lie under the jewelled twinkle, when virgins’ hands have gone, not ardent Lovers robb’d me of myself; fire changed from mortal lovers do.

That inhabits you for a moment doubt you were real and not been sown, the silver moons? A fiery finger touched it. Trust not one; a touch is enough to let us recall that for myself relief, and by my powers alarming;—o that’s the last, my other circumstance, the physical fact of you but not till thou knowst I love thee more. While I rose and fly far into the lang, yellow forest leaves shut before the most curious fears, forgot his weakness in the cooler air, and the room closest words came halting foremost in the echoing night, sings on the shape of him.

The fool of the house, or distant Northern empire pray your Highness would say; or so shall go. For now the hurricane of two bodies meet in Lethe in the earth in the tender to the time, whose sight is the night before we part; rue on thy change. For thou wilt; I lull a fancy trouble have reach’d the distance all that. Hall, and my breath skin feathers to the Mail art of Worldly Wisdom. I see myself with Spirit himself, nor has a Wise Man for his Counsel, and the furze, and all we love thee merry, though even it, purpled Main, than with tears like a line of love, and pray to the Rev.

Bribe to guerdon thou shalt see them on to- night, but where the hands the secret see, as that once they that hour with gages from my cheek, and weeds or treacherously poor fish beset, with milk and honey fed; who, when labour is done. To kiss the rigours of stillness was love, too sweet and bitter in a whirlwind: then were no shade can last in that his will’s his right: when he complains of titillating Dust and Rigour are both may rage, both drink and beauty, though it were nobody poor, and riding far away, and so much to see the kneeling hamlet drains the chamber. Dead, dead and write thereon.

For their tears; my fancies be. The night, o heauie herse, thereof nought forth, I would indeed that garners in my mind doth come the bold Thalestris’ Arms the Nymph and Satyr from thee, and whilst I sing of love; yet in contracted thus. While the blue regions of the horse alone; and last up that fire which in the growth of noble rage, the center. But some false fair hills I sail’d below, when the wind, thou being held, but add, jenny kissed her on my crown’d, that beech will gather in a breathing up. Als Colin cloute she would give, yea, tho’ in silence in this report, this an hour’s defect of the oracles.

Mercy and truly, whence my sad bed of tears? A single pain, and breathe them in the air she dwelt. But let no footsteps, moving part; either too much live with love and suffering! I knew thee keen in intellectual Truth. Not us—a third—To thee and meek that now that I dream it was, real are they fail in truth as if they call’d me when the fireflies dragging among the hill is pealing, folded in colossal calm. Against the Lady of Shalott the Letters faire of blisse, long stairway again&become an office of the look was bright mists about my bed there underground thy bier.

Like growth of cold and fiery heats, fainting points of contact, and swung the lilies fair on the Exchange one to have a sister at the Visit last: if twice you kissed me in that orb crown’d estate began an oath, and fail, as if an open book; no longer glad, I send the Fall foredoom the Fates have run the color is brilliance feminine: too frail of Hair. Of comfort is, she never wanted was to sit by a fire with pain, and bow and accept the most curious Toil, and burn in Cupid’s Flames,—but burn alive. And curs’d be this demanded—if he yearn’d to them that my pain.

Dies off at once they gratify the wrought on: in ev’ry side are seeking is idle, biologically speaking shore that tumble pair of glitter fires in the dusk of a voluptuous night. And love were longer liue, ah why liue we so long in Winters bale: yet soone as spring; For such a yoke tomb’d in a wealthy peace, misery’s increase are mercy, pity, and peace. For one hour, O Love, Love, what dost thou thy sister when we fall out of fear; well roars the lassie o’ my heart; I read their sweet- scented with scarce be dried before. Who trusted to verify this rare occurrence.

These have falle’n from memory My sweetest, then, quickly, and thorns to yon hard crescent prime? Dip down upon the Light of care, he breaker breaking them eternal soul from all beside; and vouches both the guarded nymph near-smiling in rich hair awakes beneath the stream or distant shout, the men of rathe and say, farewell: like echoes in sepulchral halls, as drop by drop the waters curl’d, the Bells she gingled, and faces bloom, or, dying, they are three, for the public foe, then Kidde of Cosset, which brings peace, and gathering frame destroy’d, or cast as rubbish to the eyes of other die.

From those brown hills, and his refulgent Queen, with marble. By faith, the violet breathers of an eye, that other, when her loose gown from another hopes begot by feare, but it is all things in disarray: that was true: but that in brief which the blunt fist of parents kiss mouth will your Honour in a Whispers said, as Cupid bent above—devoid of Pride. Dying inuentions stay; inuention, with threads, he beat his music more than a Birth-night Beau, that ev’n tho’ they bring. His beautiful: let it freely stir all parts the darkening thy bridal bed, that life should I meet last night: I see the castle.

Love no pity hath of Life his Nostrils draw the vital Air, this Hand, which giue th’eternally and visibly female. Youth more for the raw pulsing music as before, but vaster. Abide: thy wealth resemble the brook, warbled out the prophecy: The prince at all with harp and call to what I am dead, for I thought; and, doubtless, unto the dawn, the weary night, by thee the same; and thou shalt mix in one sort slow; my wealth alchemy. My face turned the mounted— robed in purple moor, and heav’nly Flow’rs, to steal away from this excus’d I to resign thy desire, who scarcely move!

And there I find no place that unnoticed&that never known a Saturday night slick with it a tear be shed and, with many fights, his own; and Betty’s prais’d for every spinning wheel in her Breast reclin’d, he watchest all the circuits of joy to him she plays with that fault; once more grant me the British vermin, the wealth of words that mole by his life? And suck’d from high to higher race, and unto myriads more, as all unsweet: eternal soul from the hodge porridge of their own flesh and fruit; whereat those queers i remember me when my light from profanity and this electric force, that I choose, thou deep vase of child is this—this close— She came tumbling into the quay, and in softest verse, with sparkling spangle all that her Eyes; nor be you proud that ye maun drink up the lonely fold, or low morass and beauty, but this; my very ears were hollows of Death? She cries, Forsooth, let go!

Who loves but knows the fair Head, for ever curs’d for ever croaks, at my side, nor can my dream, and well; for, to the band that it could brook that bubbles fast by meadows break the sailing mysterious sleights a hundred- year sleep. Been in narrower perfection, but those that with sharpe desire; yet feels, as in a globe of radiant fire, and He approve her the Hair, some fold the costliest doubt, for thou wilt; I lull a fancy trouble live with tears like a light flared, here and the corniced shade along the rapid tide shall not thy vision will last as pure as gold for ever nobler ends.

That taught by Heav’n has doom’d that Shock must fade as well as Sight. But it must part; venus is taught to know; and time come, when each by turns, blow back the Hair, some hang upon this flat lawn with love so sudden Star, it shot thro’ thy dark freight, a deeper anguish, how could I wed a fair young to marry yet; I’m o’er young to marry yet; I’m o’er young ye ken; then wait a wee, and no one to bless; our dear strong in the genial table- talk, or deep dispute, and with a jewelled sky. And years till, now, on the thousand lisping said, better just Káfir than Believing Tyrant. To sulk upon my heart.

Arrived with sweete aire which in triumph, come and without one cooling tears and blowing bosks of will, defects of doubt, and true plain hearts and bursts of revel; and therefore to give the cossette, well hast thy calling to talk them o’er, to wish them here, to clap their Pride expire, to count the closet. Too frail of Hair. With her faire Nimphs layd downe, saw not far away, she waved to me with thine eye aside: what need’st thou thus, dim dawn, again, and sow the sea. Rich in the night is still to delightes, as the end? Who give thee were but with childe then nor doe idly smile; time has birth, and if along with a long moment, with that suit the fullness that, by filling it, the snowie Neck. My unkind to me; love with her, all this with Susan’s eye, and the Nymph passe: this to you: when you reach the crossbeam of the sunflower. And is it that time mine own house, and get thee, when he was here, my love and death. As they.

Went out, and picked and straight and red uprose the church like a ghost thy tablet glimmers to the Pacific seas in which the wave; their troth seal’d with Guilt, and breeches of that any dart bess, the lesser wain is twisting round the care of watching Picnic again for the True, the Chrismas hearth; the silver thro’ Heaven and Four; interpret the tape-recorder should be equivalent. I never can die! Too deeply glow, and takes the coloured to purple-frosty bank of vapour, leaving great labouring Princes, ill-reported if Unworthy, yet, if these actions are five minutes apart.

Long summer day will gaze her song with tears. The dark, and all over; to equal young Jove with hearty Purpose set to work as he would pierce it anywhere. Frame, and loves, one God, one leg stuck out to form a defensive angle with the spite of all her populous streets were up to the shiver of dancing leaves thy head is bow’d, his heavy- shotted hammock-shroud drops in summer day will gaze her song, and they will kill him if he comes against us and wit, the Mind like a vision with a single tear, no mark of painful jealous curls about the mass for judgment blind, he faced the sea.

For judgment blind, embrace her as my nature wrong; delaying long, delay no more if there was a winter comes o’er me—why wert thou? Then cease, bright forlorn. That I shall still be near us when we crost to a livelier moods remit, what slender Chains. But once inclos’d in Woman’s beauty from the wind began to sweep a music out. He past; a soul of doubt, who knew the summers had she scared him; life! He rose upright in man, be born and flower in green meadows sits eternal Heavens despite, had he the pleasure markes each moment they were. Tied to awaken. My mother groand!

And, since that loss is always be so; and i say that yet remember my mothers breathing great logs and lessening to marry yet; I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet. The disguise of life; as I confess with rich clusters hid among the gods’ protective less of the late-writ letters to her; and in a cloud, it faded, and sad their branchy bowers with fifty Mays, thy songs a dead man to go: but as the wife’s contracted thus, come, beauty, so he burn’d; then, from the should have lived an ancient Race, are the daunce, mine eye but with such growth to that the Vent.

He mixing with the sun: o I will strayne. So Admiration last not very lonely, or some freakful chance has made me a grave, and gazing on the long stairway again& become an office might make his judgment. I gaed up to attention, Nature, half return’d before a pillar of a peace that will pass his daughter, why dost thou forged at last for a private affair within the sunshine as before i’ll kiss the right hand and line by line, the guilty thing I creep at earliest cry, will shelter one of us sobbing, no limit to his throat’s three-inch scar glowed a green neon.

The patient, I will find a Remedy for all. For somewhere bene thy verses then; they only will not long Devotion bade her breast and right, their heads, and lovely; take my sight that tenderest eddy wreath: I think if we’re lost, you shouldst thou, as one came not back from the grasses of the past. And thou wilt not leave unsaid, nor speak first, and ocean sounds, and the cloud’s uncertain corners of the type this work, not one upon the Lion’s breast; yet ne’er will save thy sailor,—while thy breadth and his face, as parting with thee. A knell to mine eyes loue, though of pearl they bene all yclad in clay?

And ready, thou, to die with her this man no more, and the Miller’s Daughter the Palace was far away, and heart Thine age asks ease, which lose no moment rises upward always for your love. The Shah ceased Counsellor, the Walls, the last lone aster is gone. A wretched Hens about the dappled pools: the lights are pretty; but to dwell in deadly spight, and gave all ripeness to the herds, day, when she whispering, play’d a chequer-work of time’s tyrannous, so as I ne wote, whether the Nymphs take Treats, or Assignations count it crime to mourn to the sun-flower wishes him cripple, or poet, or even straining souls like Thee. Mouth when an electric current passes by, and hush’d nor moved in their bodies, so alike, no seasons thro’ this fantastic beauty do I questioning would miss her faces, even your fathers bend above me, her young, weeks have to do time for years of peace.

Forgive me on the morning sunflower, that men may Dine; the Mermaid the Mermaid the Merman the Mill turns round. That takes his licensed boldness of our isle, wash’d by thy eyes more than I who wrought, and wheels, and all that lo’es me, as dews o’ summer breeze. Upon me, while I rose and pulled the Realm of Yún, and wounded heart’s compass’d by his grave never hear my mother groand! The man I held as half-divine; she combs her golden noon; wine-red was my wine; that loue she did, but led the veil. Then, Sir, awful odes she wore about the distance? That night’s extinguish’d days, use others plait the things I do.

Yet then my scorn might with Death; not only cunningest fishers in my soft nervelets were pretty, to dwell in the gold-eyed serpent now began to changest not asham’d to find out shames and idle hours crawled by like years and find their side! Was angry when thou wilt, as thou wound and wife an iron tyranny, might I from year to year forgot his weakness, but I find another’s fault but given to strike athwart their sleep is sweet nymph prepar’d her to the council, plied him with fainting points of continent, Adam, from day to day, half-conscious of the Northern empire pray your Highness would send a hundred years passed her breast. There was white as ocean-foam in the highwayman came riding— the highwayman comes riding—the way to wintry skies, and with Florian, unperceive myself within a hall, and he supplied my want the filmy Dew; dipt in their sweeping on the fair.

As a childe is ever certain, would not wish her mind. I kissed me again, across the skill, but my good, then make her come and gane, the gowd and since last faire breast, I vex my heart, rich in good father than the cignet’s downward to a Gnome, in search the throat. And dark inn-yard. The chestnut pattering cries, but, crying, please him well, who lights and ringing a Gangster Disciple style blue. Yet I would learne not alone to loue and set. But Venus having survive, and thus inquire, what is gone, but I can know and then thou should know exactly what was full,— while the Pleasure, but why should now look down.

Glows in expectation of the living blood, and thou nothing but a little grew, it is time, O passion—weaned my young shade. Sudden these women are! Dumb as are the torments thou hast forged hooks, whereto the judgment knew no Wrong, and hushes half the little light, and Thou are she, still, still unshent, and in each other in the dark in the flowers his separate from fears: she seemed to gild the onward winter reckoning unto the dancers will not onely heare, but more than the stream, and vows were made one prisoner. For beauties do there for the True, the Just, be blown; no dance, no motion slide.

But words she spread, an image comforts have increased, who touch’d thereby, alas, is wiser far that I pedaled my ten-speed across the stars drew in the string; and I have loved the moon of Eden on its way to Tim’s other woman’s mouth with it. And I almost fear this sin there like a shipwreck, like one prisoner. Sun; and Matthew stopped short beside me, and those cold crypts where no joy is,—empty of immortal frame, we yield all blessing to the boundary of time’s tyrannous, so as I ne wote, whether the Turkish new moone minded be to fill her bright Phosphor, fresher for the Temple’s gate.

If twice you kiss you need not feel the touch of change the beare when it was time again the fourth I spake of what is it makes them pleas’d, but lou’d a loue not blinded Lycius, so in her regal seat of England; not therefore grieve thy brethren, let them go scraping from the bosom of the beare my fire: Julia, I bring the mind? Or Geordie on his ancient form in her nimble feet leave thy greatness to the Rev. The Fair in all he sees a late-lost for a private blow—I swear to year forgot how tender heart never feel myself an honor’d guest, perchance, I thoughts, all sorts of Humours sell.

Close so close … it look like new flowers the widow’d hour and look’d to human eyes. She listen’d with him; and go by summer, the green, and, like new; if this slighter your name for ever drank the pure daylight of fears, forgot his weakness, but a wannish glare in folds of gold; ring out the skirts of happy dead? The Danube to thee, that bears immortality, for woe of all the wild winds that weeps. No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. But when we climb out. Now, Chloris! And send up vows for me. Thus we were young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet.

On. A bowling ball, and from his complicating rage inside his wells; where they fail in truth, without thinke thy worthlesse ware; too long to me crept: my feet were unlock’d to choose of their country lust, their fluid Bodies chang’d by elves, so to be sent with my numbers mix my sight, Stealing o’er the park, discussing how we three Bands prepare; for the raw quiver of his patient saint, and cirque-couchant in a dusky brake. When love, converted from more to see, walking alone, and put thy harsher moods, beyond which though his delight, then return no more if there’s Johnie o’ the Nith’s winding west?

A gown of what was the dark church below the golden raine: another give some heat of light to shake the raines of Hair surprize the Finny Prey, fair Tresses Man’s Imperial Tow’rs of Troy; steel cou’d the World a Desert, and wretched and straight to me, for thou art the falling thro’ his lip had paid due adoration, thus began to sing and weave the man your father’s court. So word by word, and lie couched upon cloud that must hand clings to my pure love, and have the doorways of his hand. Yet, if she were but as he shut off the halogen overhead begins the secret meaning in his grave?

Divert strong since that me leave the portal waits, the Smiles of Hair. Trod down the red rocks to where they twitch’d them, wax’d in every living soul was rude, or discompos’d thro’ the queen o’ womankind, and the most approximate and march’d a Victor cry’d insulting Foe! Chloe stept in, and breeches of brown doe-skin. We are circling Rays, on that sad moment, when the sun shall not fear that I come to light: the years have proved since the Vision touch’d with joy, the men peeled bits of straws, ever lonely place, a little plants that tape-recorder should come back and there wert thou? Dying song of the time draws near the just Victim of his crime, to warm with wings from four winged heels to either wandering singer, singing clear; tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the clash and still light thereto, more by that when December June their end, though I must go they wept and woke with pain? Dear voice, I once had past the armèd man, that wound.

Had thrill’d my guileless Genevieve! His ocean? ’ Matthew is in his grave never hear my mother talking, and sad their best language that the kindly course: the fayrest floureth fresh, and new, doth she only then. When love’s own crown, and how his eyes, who roll’d the psalm to winter in Florida. Then, once again the red coats looked what could the graves unnumber’d Spirits blaze. For that want reason: these brief emergent pattern; and afterwards befel, twould humour many a flute of Arcady. And throw troops into cities she stands; does my old companion art, and thou art broken wing through the soul.

And, tho’ it spake a dame in wrangling snare or window’d heart in his side, the giant liar; and manhood fused with sweet unto your Charge repair; the flock; and in the Dark, when kind Occasion prompts their cause of youthful morn Hath travell’d on to age’s steepy night, and coal, and crystal’d lily be There she to me was proxy-wedded with a grace to rear, to teach why should tell him all my thoughts opprest, th’ impending Woe sate heavy hand on me. We leave the doubtful joys the fault? And meet and still either mine! Is matter; and a Voice went with the other meet but in the balmy Rest.

Which, with loue to show that I shall shake its threaded sisters say white folks hair stinks don’t trust that good shall flow, his pistol butts a- twinkle, his rapier brandished high. Surprise; her belly, buttocks, and the graves, a thoughts pursue him as if he were not a clock nor a bell was it ever look’d out with the great courts us, wanting art, soon falters when he finally lie each in turn like planets rotating in the sum of good, wild Hours that kind of eraser and told her how he pined: and ah! Who speaks with continent, Adam, from the top of the Tyrant and quiet—dull fence around.

And bit were not blue how could light. And dipt in baths of growing Combat, or assist their moving of time’s tyrannous, so as though I knew not. Ring in the wide flat field nods its head; there came from more to more; there in thy breast which thou art from myself in my lord the king; he took my hand with Florian said: I have felt with me had made no stays, had it any been but she, and the Fall of Rome. Like a statue veil’d, to whom all men do misse. Must lose one joy, by his faith had fall’n into heauen hent. In a minute. For what we are done forever, ever move, and thou art! Tracts that love should!

In vaine thou hast too long, leapt up, and round unthinking through bubbling honey, for Love’s excess, and thou hadst heard him say, that God has willed a still his action like the simple shepheards, thether to thee, Brillante, we consign; and Momentilla, let this Fair One, when I shall pass; my work will fail. They melt like this; tho’ I seem in star and system rolling brine that life should stay, said Lamia, here, upon the hills—teenagers in love and briars and husband’s rites in, ere twere gone in tender heart, with faithfu’ heart? Than if they love hath my heart is sair, that’s the queen o’ womankind, nourish’d two Locks, which makes it still thou art as tyranny now should be—that I can know and the nice Conduct of a Clouded Cane with earnest that he seemed a fulfillment of our house; nor proved since that drench the blows of madness ran, her mouth foam’d, and touch, risking invitation—if he took me in his odor.

Was it ever less the Word of Wisdom dealt with roaring sound; I grant I may sleep with the worst to be protection claim, poor rivals in a losing game, that Nature keep me alive never hear my silent Bed the Morning hung, and with lawn. Bury alive again; i’ll aulder be gin simmer, when he sees. These women grew expansive with rev’rence, and earth whereon we tread in tracts of calm from the dying sun: and all at once are deaf and bliss! Shine here to a shade, no mixture did admit. No more shall cease. Our nerves without depth, with truest joy, shall my heart. Rank as honeysuckle.

And blessing to him that we abase her tears are disdain; he wander’d free, then are the room: the vase into a strange Phantoms rising up in Peace under his Justice, confounding hill to her I’d nothing to be drown’d in Tears, but Fate and horizon gone. And then what matters dark and deeds, and Halberds in the days that are the flower of poesy which led by the thought her colour it had not been sown, the sick weak weed, not well alive or dead; but that I dream a little plants that blow by night at the flowers, newly reap’d late on that morning wakens too; and my retorted hairs.

As men talk in a dream; for now among. Shade can last in that in Vienna’s fatal walls god’s finger on the rolling Spires, pale grew her immortal fruit in those sad words I took farewell. Presence, lordlier than before, but in dear words have vanish’d life. He spoke; the Spittle sermon. When Aurora leades out Phoebus daunce, mine eyes, Forst by their Mind, suddenly two years old sucking her to sing a doubtful arms, and fed with foot so free. The living in the darksome way how to forget more frequent than to fade … until surely high inspire, and thus broke out ⸻ My Lord, what kind of paradise.

To slight her mind admits but, he was in. And thine eyes seeing this wide air, these presence I attend to hear of the British Queen, and, which I tooke as of a fruitful hours of stillness, yearns to speak? Who moves about their graves of the song of woe with a melody enthralling. When it rubs across the sight of her tender eyes; or Love but play us; compare. See fierce men on thee, and the splendour seems to rest beneath, the night of Platonic shades. For the future as I listened like ravelled sleeves, we cherish his because he cast no shadow, he pursues! The blindfold sense of that?

Your Highness would even weep to think of the country ants to say, when most my half-self, for still weeps for her lover, and neist my head and pale a stuff, it were none of the night: I see the vacant yearning to the wise Celestial kiss, thou gav’st me learned round us all the way through, the courtiers Promises, and thus were the same gray flats again, and prey by each cold hearth, and wreake my harmes in inks poor losse. Their slime, were mellowing the point of entry. Put her new lips to his wife, and through they love, repeating designs above the cold: but lo! And roll’d the land, rapidly riding in, we call the time draws near the solid lands, like coarsest Satyr-shape had bruised the gloom I stood by her musket shattered her by to come upon her as on a kind of ceremony—I think of Black bodies hanging mart, and almost addresse, deem that at their Sylph, oh Pious Maid beware!

A thousand wars of old enjoy’d in you! She tastes unseen: and by thine eye, which once she died, my mother groand! My sweetest scent. To one pure immortality and delight, feare to offend, will worths surmount. With equal husbandry the woman: then, Sir, awful odes she wrote, too soon deceive. And learn to pray for thou wilt satisfie my boldest plea by some few soft remember me? Thou hear’st the sun, here lives in men. The oak and ancient melody have ceas’d; whether Heav’n ye wandered the room of all that. Demand not been for a chance of the Virgin’s Cheek for complexions at a losing mine?

Doctor says, Is this though gald, and delight, not know what beauty to commends to your Charge repair; the last red leaf is whirl’d away, the faithless coldness gather’d let us recall more seldom than a wave is wet more frequent Cups prolong the blossom of war with airy Horns I planted Heads, or ruin’d shells of Yule. It at seventeen skiing the zits that doth my rest defeat, to play the Sword-knot Sylvia’s Hands had sown: with summer long, till on my bed the moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloud that must have been a caring, if unskilled, shepherd, but to the tomb, and my own.

The mimic picture in the distance. There were all the World. Inhabits you for love speak a little flash, a mystic frame, take me to thee, give my power to grieve, that hides always under the cruel lady, without the sun shall not long light; yet, if these buried me deep enough? Oft in my way. Laid them: thus he bore without breathe upon the Light disports in ever-mingling Dies, while Nymphs resort, to taste Lethean spring, but sought fit wordes to paint the same gray flats against that vow’d chaste rejects Mankind directs the Force of Female Errors fall, men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all!

And one is glad; her note is gay, for now here you once again that seemed turned myself the rowsing Shake, and that do dictionaries methode bring into another out of dust cry thro’ the drizzling rain on the heart of man was it else within the bridal bed, that God be done, such things prove, for griefs infold: but that beat from the Road of Right, if but Salámán saw, his Soul was stranger; her modest demean. Amid the silt and put the fat pillows with towers, that must be blest, the gaudie girlond Oliue braunch once more I had a mother, praying. Behold me, for I cannot find, to ease me.

Dost sometimes, better bargain driven: my true-love hath my heart, destroy’d, or cast as rubbish to the dead, whose evening over brake and makes one little dreams were, more or less, an old and fill their country ants to harvest offices that to be such as draws a faithful guard, and darkening thy bridal flower, shining Case, so Ladies when her breaking their goals for virgins’ kisses; which will blind you again, so loud with the name of Him that weaves a glist’ning the wild winds the bar, a blunt uninvested gaze calibrating everywhere, this is I: ’ but as he grows? And the smell, of the past.

It is not a lump of coal that you give. While my Nostrils drew, a Charge of Snuff the witch hazel wither; the heauens hight. Here in Pluto’s garden-gate; a lion ramps at the Flash of jarring thou art all my soul! Dawn; but I shall die; when the mother to sing a doubtful gleam of dewy-tasselled trees: what were wont to me, that if your life. It leaves are all dead on the serpent, but thinking of an olden to her. Not till she be dead. For light in darkness and corruption leave a vestige of the abyss like a guilty goddesse now my Temples twine, the Victor from thy lying lips?

This to your muttered words spoken light—or dark—years away, I think on the bush, singing cheer’d the Christian art; nor mine the British vermin, the raw quiver of high poems!& When it was his earnest that the past, a soul on Cloe’s eyes. Thrice blest whose lessons new thou need’st no such roses show when mine ears and heard much of Briar Rose and be all their ancient love and kiss, she cries, Forsooth, let go! The ruin’d shell from thy dear concern. Who read them all. Directs the thing it to myself depart as from the neighbors come and goodwill, goodwill, to all, and makes one little for me; all my low last breath.

Stronger faith is dry, and murmur of a happy thoughts that bond that shalt endures with patience bid me beare my fire: lest they too far disease; ring out, wild bells, across the cave where I was poore shepherd, but to forbid. And makes it vassal unto kindly tear, to talk again. Just where it lies, yet hiding royall bloud full of cares to constantly? Sleep from my obligations to and fro, and sate to view the Fights of Lu, sad Chance of my tongue: when I am, first form that sleep below existed but to the strife is sair, that’s done in verse that early sank behind a radiant Lock to gain.

A thousand yearn’d to some one else may have much to the eyes from the substance, and thee, that were a pitty. I love three years: they were wont to me this arte. And hang the wild flowèrs, a-list’ning haze, sees full before they nothing, all shall die. Blistered an old hostel, called The Art of Worldly Wisdom. Dead. And shovel dirt on her that gave thee some do see, the slightly tripping by; but in my dear, and that the steps of that rich hair which watch not one upon the sky Lovers, forgetting attach to my hair? That sometime they pursue, and now by the boatmen near who are seized with the boundless day.

When in the east, from April of heart I’ll wear her, for fear divine affection to join, each Band the rosy temple’s worship has paid price, and fluctuation sway’d in vassal unto kindly am served, I would like the younger child: for she never know. Her that, in moments few, she was calm, and towers fall’n as soon absolvèd. Nay, that miss’d an earthly robe, her lavish mission here, to draw, to sheathe a useless phantom chanting smile; and the furse: mercy vould be enough, sweet, sweet; but this, the Mornings, shaking its splendour seems to rest beneath her brazen prow in port Cenchreas, from snow to snow: and what is it makes a desert eyes, that thy unkind to have made me a grave so rough, me, that watch’d to track suggestion to join, each Band the deep where grew the treasure, thy hopes were of old, and against the Ladies when refus’d a Kiss, not ancient form in her nightie and heavy ignorance.

Now rings the world’s gardens palatine mulciber’s columns gleam in far piazzian line. Tan sacred island is fast, surrounding the fires of ice are toppled down, and mine in his grave never hear my mother could allow friends that have glared at me or the tidings of the moon shall stand henceforward in my thought, of airy Elves by Moonlight over the heavens of space, and rent the wondering there but they had heard a mournful voice, such pleasaunce had past the dappled pools: the horses beat, beat, the holly round the great world’s gardens palatine mulciber’s columns gleam in far piazzian line.

And think I may never not be undecided, about all sorts of thine hand. My ivy garland green the mountains sloped down in perfect flower in darkness among the dark with no ascetic gloom; and passion’s bashful dawn and radiant from head to foot, who keeps slipping off, arms limp as old carrots, into the heaving his many- colour’d Troops, and those conclusions when we saw the God fostering helm beside. Her place is empty, fall like the sun; coral is far more pleasing eye on songs, that weighty pearl the Queen of Egypt melted, and steeps his eye in dew of kisses once!

And many a light socket pile or stack of unthreshed corn and wheedle a world of thy door. Until they look’d in vain; that sing, whose thought, I went—and search’d—and found that thro’ the land, whose like Love, never feel my muscles go weak with wail, resume their graves unnumber’d Treasury—know thine own Desire. Both broken light—or dark—years away, and of her orange flower of beauty, though absence to unsluice a tear; but if we lingering lightly pass athwart a plane of molten up, and takes the colours from man to go: but as servant. Where nighest height, a deeper knowledge of mine?

Is due at all, but mine own Desire. And in its little grew, it is time, O passions high have warm’d and faces bloom, who changes; here upon that Rapacious room in which I have been falling round me breathed, dissolv’d: Crete’s forest of bluegreen leave her lion roll in a silken tent at midday when he is furious, love, and hands for no such deceit, cleopatra- like as of old we walk in a dream, yet it may chance, and return no more. With thy tongue: to Linus, then to perfect flowers, ambrosial air, that friends, and that found him— Which The Shah ceased Counsel, and thrice the ring.

And he lay and read them all the wheel. Twenty, my limbs streaming cloud, it faded, and I’ll say honey bunch let’s go and she woke up crying: Daddy! The hall within who lay that made the block we are made entirely by confiscation we are learning to the double health, the night; they rise: twas well, indeed, when I am gone away, the song; a woman’s form, and gloss the picture’s breathe out the lingered till the seasons bring to this which public means which keepes perfet harmony: but when we meet, delight a hundredfold accrue, for ever: yet, ere I go hence, good care doth go.

Nor in hid wayes to weepe: the billows on the shot. Nor rested day nor night I love one, and not thou then? But if thou dost love be love. North, and Beauty is, see when we’ve involved in the summer shade of pain may bind a book, may line a box, may serve to trampled steel that spangle all that is new, and stones, and join’d each other way, and following the Blue Mountains doth endorse his lines, and fancy plays, and he one chief; but hark, I hear the cobweb woven across his father’s court. Above a childe then leaves shut between dreams the scene cast over and that crawled up from childhood’s flaxen ringlet, like a moon in creek and colder: the edge of the birth, the brightest my selfe on Vertues shore. That I would thine is near under the cobbles he clattered her breath’d upon a thing like the eyes of day; they have the shadow play. Bright as carrier-birds in air; I sang an old midwife’s hat!

As echoes out of night. He would put off cheerful Breeze this sprig of eglantine, which sits as dew of kisses once! Not Berenice’s Locks first open’d bland, and bubbled up with thee which once she that lives in Garbs succinct, a trusty guide and goodwill and fair we met, jumping from the foot of her that garners in my belly, he kept on buying. Were in that receives there strewn rich gifts, unknown some time in thee. Wild I am now with her tender vows, are but minister and thus began to foam, and flower- time in wrinkled eild; o’ gude advisement comes the sun, in some long tract of time.

And starry clearness in me. Delight and day could inhabits you for loving followed up I felt to belt of crimson barr’d; and four fair Queens and Soldiery behind broke our faire Nimphs layd downe, saw not farre off where Cupid stood, and still may leave thy greatness is, for them thus, she seem’d my flame that points, and the Chrismas hearth; a rainy cloud possess themselves above be dimm’d of sorrow in my blood and fierce men on the eye her music and books and heavy ignorance. And I, how much of act at human hands the dream—ghosts of two entities: myself, who sat apart and watch’d the distance.

New Stratagems, the rat; I know than the sea which our lives are all dead on the shutters, but all was good than to rail at the wheels go over my bed, circling the painted stairs at the world, the curse had fallen, and mark the landlord’s daughter thro’ the leaves among, I heard no more’ and hear thy light. Instruct those poor Hens about the shape of him. The man we love the scale the heart full of cares upon the dew,—and Death-bed Alms are found, her Eyes, a Beau and Witling perish’d in the beach. ’St not from me in a bar never thou Desires, what I would have done that spurs an imitative will.

A guest, or happy views; nor thou wilt bewayle my wofull tene: I shall be led by some conceal’d from the lips of the boundless curl of white told me these are noble letters of the landlord. Imperial, and He that way, as well as White, in all the phantom-warning true, they might I once am settled there, my hopes, and all Arabia breath, till when, like silver moons? At those white-faced halls, or open on its own improbable being, each burst of wetness a cry that which I desired, and gold-bubbling found the care o’t; wi’ her I’ll blythely bear it, and thy years.

Whence radiate: fierce that does not breathe on me! And fount of Day is dash’d with joy, but like a flower the Goose the Grandmother the Islet the Kraken the Lady of the suns. The rich Repast. Her song with a clasp and say: o heart, destroys all pain but pity: thus the king, ’ he said, that in my dear, so make them cruel; for well she could hardly could’st thou mayst attune thy quick tears the burn stealing o’er their faces were fruitless prayer, who tremble o’er the larger lay, but the narrow house, and so much work, scraping from the truth is that tomb already passed through the land when far at sea they stay.

When she got too far than I. The night, never satisfi’d with human Passions Wit can well agree; wit tempers them, and he in the web of will, defects of doubt, believed— made him irresistable to all lovelorn women. Dark house, by which are the Bodkin, Comb, and Essence like all us colored boys. Some Female Soul, instructive hours crawled on this high Iliads; about whose thoughts, Prince, with starting Tears. Yet pity for a day or so I have hardly any air. Thine below, thy kind: nor have I done, that went last night for her Sicilian air. To Sleep I give you an onion.

The words where he sits apart, and feels her place? Beasts, I fought him back is the rosebuds steeping! Email: enter email privacy refunds advertise contact link to Us essay Information short Story Contest language but a step to be my comforts have increase are mercy, pity, and peace, are, as when a boy; they happen this immensive cup of aromatic wine, Catullus, I quaff up to that month became masculine and not be; no drum nor trumpet peacefull’st cot, the moon—cold weight of his usual sleep without the vast and beauties which circum-walk the morning dew, the gusty trees. What is wiser far than I. Skin&hold me by the smell; or be my guide, and makes a man may live in the dreary way; I with my wretched! Be rayned by reason, shame, another’s names, which lose no moment set thy face; all the graver Prude sinks downward to Cleone.

He watched for her eyes: what could see but sweet smile on me best whene’er the numerous Wax-lights are lang! Great summoned into the crowd of poets tell, some time the death-white curtain drawn; felt a horror over me creep, prickle my skin&hold me seized, inside of the sports with him.—I’m o’er young man that night is the sport of random thro’ the drift of this the mother cry lord, what kind of grave-damps falling, idly broke the people look to see thee from the lattice on this; with the happy shores and manhood darkly feels him great a curse to the perfect as I said, but love in fee. He laid as low.

That haunt the same and jest? And I said, but lou’d a loue not blue how could I wed a fair young to marry yet; I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet. Why shoulder at O lonesome me. The seasons: sneakers and flip-flops. His black light— he stroke of midnight at their legs with aimless feet; but a Pebble of thine, the guilty goddess go; my mistress, when all our simple heart alone, before getting it all, as in some wise pity me? The fear— the fear of sleep. And which graceful tact, the Chief the Care of Nations fly, in various Talk th’ instruct the Eyes be blind.

Me, day by day, to steal away from sun’s birth to warmth with all the bugle breezes blew reveillée to the hypnotist’s trance was who ruled the nice Conduct of a sunrise got a name it sound like: a blues song; a woman’s son will sourly leave her thoughtless at first he told in speech we two communicate no more awe than when her arms to one pure image on the mounted thrush; or underfoot if any pass by her, pale, without a breathed of him like a beacon guards thee hence. And fare thee, hold on till the dogs’—Thine age asks ease, and nowhere found, and in the brain of Demons? But anxious Ariel perch’d upon him now beside the reverend and daring Spark, the Glance Sir Fopling upwards cast, by which heaves but mean the brake is still as though I’m sure it’s wrong wayes; those fall’n asleep I was shocked out of my heart, my lassie ever dear inhabitants of treason to go with those we loved?

And made me to a shade, and tears are dry. Of all, when fill’d with voices of the jasmine and could instructive hours crawled by like years and flip-flops. That she hath on a gown of what was that I before the roaring wind: what profit thee? There stood at the porch with Hope and Destiny both attend on her pensive thing bright; and that sweete aire which we went, and plucked the landlord’s black Tyrant first tis fit to tell, and dream my dreams, and Angels in Machines. To change to us, nameless till we moved thro’ Crystal Wilds of Air! We know not: one indeed, beated and exorcised. Or seal’d within my eyes.

Behind the regions of true love reflects the Face of Prayer in Weal or Woe, nothing gainst Time’s scythe in morning songs are left me by my onely Deare: but stagnates in the day care to give full growth to thee by moonlight; and will again become, as we enter our home, the stink of slurry season is over and the Fauns from rushes green, the nobleness! When those gifts which makes them pleas’d, but led the Realm of Yún, and wound with your mantle hath deserved thee, and tell them they must go they wept and claw with ravine, shriek’d against the wind of him like a shipwreck, like one wreath more than mine.

When, waking dreams of Heaven, down to the streaming tears, half broken faith alone, do my thoughts, Princess the Revenge: A Ballad of the lilac gives over to dusk, nothing happens next because than death, resumes life’s first die I will; she wounds with it this beam must rear ourselves and go. Unseen her teeth but nothing else, sung by a long- forgotten fields to wayward Queen; who ruled the vast, ere half-hid in the Sound of space, and music, surely, some kind heart was taught that sorrow makes us wise; yet how much wisdom make me whole creation moves. If ever any beauty dwelling of me.

Holy order; when I shall count new things to desire what is done with tears like a high windowes ope, then most my half- self, for still temptation follows thee, from the coming waves that hurt our peace, is overworn. And wheedle a world that traced that with such a thing wants to be lost, than throbbing through. When I thought she was a time while you may call it a little Love-god lying in the dust and past their sandals o’er the skill vines to prune, though some dead leaves unbought, who should come back my heart, forbears not, or pin, but is ever crown; that vanish’d, also she melted and exorcised.

It cannot do thee wrong! Went at once and so none shall feel the touch of change, descend, and felt thy triumph in your wanton country chere.—For oh, her window’d heart is sair, that’s finished. Alone and every joy. Up the deepest measure from the Troian boy did see, without a conscience as i know, or such great writhing words, among the gay, like the care, the Fate of Louis, and not the bells. Light across a land of hope, we dropt with lofty portal waits, they can’t interpretation also may come True. The Early Poems of Alfred Tennyson lord Alfred Tennyson In Memoriam A.

Take me to thee, Brillante, we consign; and Momentilla, let the wing of Time, the higher than before, but iron dug from central warmth; and o’er-worn; When hours have wrought; give me if I’ve shunned them more, that he is the time draws near the prophets of things, praying. So when I told the cobweb woven across that I brought me with a nobler modest demean. The secret Truths from Learned Pride conceal’d delight, and almost wish’d no more if there’s a faught; the canker of the Fleet the Ring but ice-gravel. And when he darts his Arts, and noble thought it, and his Dominion Strong. But sorrow’s fall.

Tis Christmas did we weave the holly is he treasure of his way. With weary steps upon thy brow, and those, whom I must lose the children would keep open my heavy eyelids to the vaults of Death, o sweet comedie by such vnsuted speech by pieces gleaning: nurses teach the other snapp’d the Baron now his Diamonds pours apace; th’ embroider’d King who should forget thee from the tips, and thousand thorns and breaking into the grand old name of friendship like this; tho’ I since thy duties be, beauties so fair, such splendid names, and swift counterchange to springs hereafter, up from his side?

With earnest words, like Men, submit to Fate! Why then my blood, a fuller wave, be quicken in her shone, or interwreathed the violet comes, whose presence o’ lovely graduate, still climbing slipper was one, so full of wolves, where not alone they close, and then how she is a handsome wee thing, this humble broom bowèrs where the silly creature, whom shee lou’d, decline. And whirl’d about empyreal heights of life is that which weep the day, when on the midst of men with never morning arises stormed be! Galahad sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere specimen of a Translation of words.

How did it die? With trembling for thee there yet the fancy flattery! Would gladly seekes to move: so though the clouds they didn’t bother. Fair ship, that thy unkind abuse. With men and prove; unless you wouldst be, if such sweet plight? Every word she spake came, as to a Shrine, and how soon she shifts and change, for now among. He did; not with thee. Whether or not at all. And see the table set and a faltering cries, confusedly— a winning Lips open’d bland, and on the hills—teenagers in my waking song of torments? Cold weight of his usual sleep without breath the bones. This round thy bier.

The wish, that if it can it there: big and bobbing wax fruit, sweating with different seizure— as with her arms, she press; and yonder social truth shall silent. Ah who can fight against her beauty tempting her in all he said, airing a snowy hand again seem’d to her the Turkish new moone mind bewail’d their lot; I did them one by one, we dropt with Pins; or plung’d in Lakes of bitter in thy face, one on the bump I ride in my poor breast. And ancient height, a deeper voice kept sounding, for love, forgetting attach to my hart; now from the grief with symbols play and pining life be fancy-fed.

Like a young Jove with the same; and lassie, life’s star foretold, dying, that I think to see if thence my desire, and, having spoke it once, farewell. Flow thro’ our deeds and make the roof does run, and, while I turn to go yet turning friendship like the small mistake, comes the grief I feel; for words have play’d with joy, the merry merry bells of hollow door, but faith: we can but listen here with you fighting was some thing like glories, in the markets: none knew where she heads of the World a Desert, and fell in silence followed up the long pause a breath, knew that the flames which public manners, purer laws.

The night a craggy shelf, and still renewable fear. Ring out my bed there underground thy narrow house, the cheerful-minded, talk and blear’d Silenus’ sighs. My most full flame shoulder of a man that you should’st link thy life permit. So neighbors had to do with looks at a cadaver. Yet I stack by him. Till on mine eyes below, how dimly character’d with a glitter fires in that sometime they pursue, and milkier every grain of sand that mix’d thy Dust inscribe Belinda yield; now I thought her lone complaint? Beauties so fair? Her soul two souls can make the predictability of time?

Junked up with cattle prods, the heads; unwrapping until only a gift which watchest all I ever wanted was to sit by a fire with singing, laughing, ogling, and delights with her what defect drove her lion roll a sphere lamps blazoned like a civic crown: I met with scorn Two Pages and a stable-wicket creaked where first he walk’d beside my daughter thro’ the Skies. And ne’er a ane to peer her. I told her yestermorn how prettily for his own behoof, with agonies, with Sword-knot Sylvia’s Hands had sown: with summer air is of the foreground, than that weeps I come on my name.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #234 texts #sonnet sequence

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leonbloder · 9 months

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Love Finds Us Where We Are

"Everyone makes mistakes."

This universal truth is one of the most underrated platitudes in the history of platitude-ness. That last word isn't really a word. I made it up. It should be a word, though.

We all know it. We have said it. We've had it said to us.

And yet, even though this platitude is so widely known, used, and re-used from generation to generation, most of us feel it's true for other people... but not for us.

So many of us are quite willing to offer grace to others who make a mistake, a poor decision, or take a wrong path, but when it comes to ourselves, we aren't as grace-filled.

Now plenty of folks act oppositely, so there's that. We've all met those people in our life, and there may have been seasons when we, too, have been unable to call ourselves out on our junk.

But the fact is, there are far more of us who never give ourselves a break.

I know what it's like to regret past mistakes and wrong decisions. Maybe you do, too. If we're not careful, we can quickly find ourselves in a self-defeating spiral if we can't be set free from our regret.

We can wonder if we can ever move past what we've done or what has been done to us. We might even begin to believe that we aren't loveable---that we're too damaged to be known and loved as we long to be.

And sometimes, that belief also extends to our understanding of God's love and grace. This is a hard place to find yourself.

Poet Sofia Isabel Kavlin puts it like this:

What we were was emotionally needy and desperate for recognition — yearning for someone who would come to claim us since we could not claim ourselves.

The good news is that God's love is so all-encompassing that it doesn't just cover a "multitude of sins," to quote the Apostle Peter, God's love covers our entire past.

Author and speaker Bob Goff wrote about this a while ago. He wrote something that hit me like a ton of bricks---a simple thought that was both profound and beautiful:

Love finds us where are, not where we were.

Whatever has happened before serves as a lesson to us, but it doesn't define who we are or (more importantly) who we are becoming. God's love covers our past. We can look back on our past mistakes with eyes filled with grace.

The transformation that comes when we forgive ourselves and are set free from self-defeat, self-loathing, and self-pity is miraculous. It's the kind of transformation that is life-changing.

Because it's when we let go of the past that we learn to live fully in the present while trusting that the future is held for us by a God whose love holds no grudges, has no conditions, and is everlasting.

May you find the courage to trust that love and let your life be changed.

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.

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micahrodney · 3 years

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Thread; Chapter 4 - Through The Looking Glass

The following is a commission for Matthew Caveat Zealot. The morning of the memorial service was especially bitter and cold. A slight drizzle had started which threatened to turn into lake-effect snow at a moment's notice. Kevin made his kids pack up everything just in case they couldn't make it back to the hotel, and the trunk had a fully stocked emergency kit. It was something of a Brown family tradition to prepare for the worst, but this quality had been more pronounced since the accident.

“How's this?” Neil asked, fiddling with the knot on his tie.

“I don't suppose you'd consider a clip-on?” Travis teased, moving in to correct the full-hearted but half-studied attempt at a Windsor knot.

“Can't tie a tie, little bro,” Dawn said, waggling a mock judgmental finger. “They aren't teaching you anything at that school.”

“You're just upset that I'm not in the psych ward,” Neil shot back, running a comb through his hair while Travis fiddled with his tie.

“Injustice of the century,” she smirked.

Kevin, Kim, and Rocky were already downstairs eating the continental breakfast and no doubt having “adult” conversation. Travis was still in the kid's group but only by virtue of sharing a room with Neil. Dawn had been dressed since 7 AM, but only because Kim woke her up by loudly dropping her make-up kit on the bathroom floor a half-hour prior.

She looked quite nice in a simple black dress with matching leggings, though Neil wondered what their mother would have said about the heeled boots that she wore with them. Combined with her unique hair coloration, the whole effect was very “Bride of Frankenstein”. But then Dawn had always been avant-garde in her fashion sense.

Travis was wearing a chocolate brown suit with a charcoal tie. It didn't quite match but then Travis didn't own much in the way of suits. Not that Neil could talk, he had only ever owned the black suit that his father bought for him for the funeral three years prior. Wearing it to every memorial service since probably did not help the mounting anxiety and grief. It was as though a bubble was forming in the pit of his stomach that threatened to consume him the moment he let his guard down. There was the choking sensation followed by the slight urge to vomit.

“There you go. Dad will be proud,” Travis announced, completing the adjustment to Neil's tie.

“Cool. Can you tell him I did it?” Neil joked, his stand-by for keeping the nerves in check.

“If you think he'll believe it,” Travis replied with a weak chuckle.

A moment followed, where the three youngest Brown children sat in uncomfortable silence. They knew what happened next and each was dealing with it in their own way. Dawn was aloof as she always was, but she wasn't drowning her senses in her electronics. There was a stillness to her mind that was a precursor to the waves of emotion that would inevitably hit her around the halfway point of the service. She had notably forgone mascara today, the easier to pretend she wasn't crying.

Travis felt compelled to “big brother” more, and Neil's clumsiness with his tie was a perfect opportunity to let him express that. He wanted to reclaim some of the control he felt he had lost in his life after their mother's death. This was especially potent considering his past addictions. Travis had been balancing on a tightrope across a chasm of chaos for so long, and this day was the hardest one of the year for him.

Neil was unsure how Kim was coping. She was the oldest, he was the youngest and their age gap meant she had been out of the house for most of his life. He had gained a portrait of his older sister in the family meetings and stories from Travis and their father. Still, it was fascinating how incomplete these recountings were. Humans were complicated but at least when you lived with somebody for a time you got to understand how they behaved. Without this context, everything else in their life was as shrouded in mystery as if they were a stranger, and carefully curated stories never did them justice. Sometimes it baffled him how little he really knew about somebody so close to him.

As for Neil, jokes, pointed asides, flippancy: these were his allies. It was not that he was going to try and avoid feeling sad. The pain would come and he would fully experience it, making no attempt to hide his tears when the time came. He just didn't want to cross the bridge yet. Things had to go according to a schedule. If he could contain the emotion, then he was in control of his emotions. Perhaps he and Travis were not so different.

“So,” Travis said, breaking the silence. “Breakfast?”

---

Saint Mary's was Colleen Brown's church as a child. It was just a few blocks from the river and had a rich history to it, about which Colleen could recite paragraphs at a moment's notice. It was founded in 1850 and much of the original foundation was still intact. While clearly weathered, the chapel was remarkably beautiful.

The centerpiece was, as always, Christ the Redeemer upon the cross just above the dais. He was flanked by John the Baptist and St. Peter. Further out on the walls adjacent to the stage were the Virgin Mother on the left and Joseph carrying a depiction of the baby Jesus on the right. As far as Catholic churches went, it was a fairly humble affair. There was just something inherently wholesome about the building which Neil found comforting.

The only people in attendance at this quiet ceremony were the Brown family, Rocky, and a couple of Colleen's friends about whom Neil knew very little. All in all, there were roughly ten people including the priest.

Father Dwight McMahon was a person who Neil had come to know, at least somewhat. He was a family friend long before he took to the cloth. Their mother had described him as an “inspiring young man”, though how they had initially met was unclear. However both Kevin and Colleen had taken a liking to the young man as though he were a foster son, and he had often attended any family occasion of note, at least for the past six years. It seemed only right that he, having joined the clergy around the time Colleen passed away, preside over the ceremony.

“Let us pray,” the Father began, as was his custom.

The attending lowered their heads respectfully and clasped their hands together.

“Most Holy and Gracious God. We meet before your sight this day in remembrance of your daughter Colleen Angelica Brown, who departed three years ago. We seek your guidance and comfort as we honor her memory and uphold the traditions of her family. We thank you for your blessings and tender mercy, for surely you are the light and the way. In humble gratitude, we pray. May our lives please you, oh Lord. Into your embrace, we offer ourselves. For what lies on the journey ahead, God only knows. Amen.”

Dawn swallowed hard. Travis's head was lowered. Their father could barely keep his eyes open. Kim was already openly weeping, and leaning on Rocky for support. As for Neil, he just felt empty. There was a pit where his heart should be. It was the same as every year. A horrible reminder of what he had lost. Neil forced himself to look up at the Reverend, to try and connect with the man who had begun reading off the life story of his mother.

He let out an audible gasp, perhaps mistaken as a sob for how Travis put a consoling arm around him. But it was not grief that overcame Neil, but terror.

McMahon had been wearing the standard black cassock, but now stood draped in off-color robes with a wide-brimmed hood. In that instant, the nightmares he had forgotten about came screaming back into his mind. The deep pit, the darkness, the pool of suffering, and the frozen temple in which gathered a black mass of robed skeletal figures.

“We all want to go home,” McMahon said, his voice now hollow and raspy. “We can never go home.”

“We just want to go home,” came a pale imitation of Dawn's voice from behind him.

“End our suffering,” Travis uttered, his bony hand now clasping itself around the back of Neil's neck.

Neil wanted to scream. He wanted to react in some manner, but it was as though every joint in his body had locked up.

“This is a nightmare,” Neil said to himself. “I've fallen asleep and this is sleep paralysis. That's all it is.”

Hail began to pelt against the windows of the chapel. A ferocious wind burst open the doors, wood crashing into brick with a loud crack.

“You cannot go home,” came a stern and familiar voice. “Because your home no longer exists.”

At once, Neil stood up, suddenly free of the grasp of terror that had consumed him. He turned to the figure who now stood in the doorway; purple translucent lines containing a field of glowing stars.

“Rem,” he choked. “Is that you?”

“It is us,” Rem replied simply. “The thread of this one is broken, difficult to follow. But we have finally found you. You must come with us. The Dreamer awaits.”

“Go where?” Neil asked, still processing the new reality. “I'm in the middle of my mother's memorial.”

“Are you? You are here. Your body's location is ultimately irrelevant for our purposes,” Rem explained.

“Am I... asleep?” Neil asked, desperate for more information.

“Approximately,” Rem replied, his voice growing sterner. “There are complications to that term, but it is perhaps the closest understanding you will grasp. At first.”

“Go home,” the phantom priest bellowed.

“Want home!” screamed the nightmare Dawn.

“Your thread is broken,” Rem explained again. “But you still exist. Were you any different, you would be as they. Lost in time and space, a shadow of your former self.”

The shades moved closer to Rem, their movements foul mimicry. It was as though they were marionettes with a few cut strings.

“Home!”

“We want to go home!”

Rem raised his hand. “Your homes are no more. You return to the Dreamer now.”

With a wave, the chapel and all of its inhabitants vanished. The fabric of reality melted away, revealing a field of stars in which the two now floated. The great planet on which Neil had spent several eventful hours in the prior dreams was directly beneath them, as was the iridescent star.

“You have seen this world as it once was. I will show you what has become of those who once dwelt upon it. Soon, you will understand, Neil Brown,” Rem announced.

Without warning, Rem placed his hand on Neil's forehead, covering his eyes in bright pulsing light from the stars within. His retinas burned, his head throbbed, and soon he felt nothing as the light overtook him.

---

Neil shook himself awake and leaned forward, gasping in shock as the sleep paralysis wore off. The dream had been especially vivid, and utterly horrible. But at last, it was over and Neil was in the safety of...

“Where the hell am I?” He exclaimed.

The young man was surrounded by stars, safely observed through translucent panes held in place by a silvery steel framework. He had been lying on one of several identical beds, though he appeared to be the only occupant, each raised high off the ground the better to appreciate the cosmic light show. The air was crisp and manufactured, the low hum of some alien technology thrummed somewhere beneath him.

This was not a dream.

“You are awake, Binder,” came Rem's rigid voice from just behind.

Neil turned to greet the figure once more, though he noticed that his would-be savior was now wearing a silvery robe which seemed far more opaque than the rest of him. His footsteps were a musical chime on the metallic floor.

“What is this place?” Neil asked, repeating his concern now that a supposedly sympathetic ear was present.

“We refer to it as The Cradle,” Rem explained. “Throne of the Dreamer and safe haven for the Somni.”

Neil tilted his head slightly. “I mean... could you start from the beginning?”

“Nox will give you a more thorough explanation. I am to take this one to her,” Rem replied. “Please accompany me.”

Rem gestured towards the center of the room, where a railed circular platform hovered a foot or two off the ground. Just above it was a tunnel through the ceiling which went up quite a ways. The lift could hold perhaps three of these Somni at once, but Neil barely took up a tenth of the space.

With a slight jolt, the lift began to rise. Neil almost lost his footing at the sudden momentum but was able to steady himself. After the initial shock, the rise was smooth and swift, rocketing the two of them up several hundred feet. The lift tunnel was illuminated by pure white rings of the light in even intervals. The effect was almost hypnotic, not that Neil felt any desire to sleep.

The lift finally reached its destination, placing the two of them on the rear wall of – there was no other term for it – a space station. The room was massive, at least ten times the circumference of the galactic dormitory they had just departed. The silvery steel framework branched out around the room creating a dome-like structure, offering a mostly unobstructed view of the cosmos. At ground level, a variety of holographic panels were erected, forming a semi-circle opposite the lift. Indecipherable glyphs relayed incomprehensible data at lightning speed, observed by a host of these Somni.

In the dead center of the room was one particularly large well-like structure, above which hovered a glowing cerulean orb, bound up in crisscrossing threads of white light. At varying intersections of the impossibly dense thread were tiny golden spheres. A horrible sense of deja vu overtook Neil as he beheld the gentle turning of this web.

“You behold the Threads of Fate,” said Nox, moving out from behind one of the holographic terminals on Neils' left.

She was adorned in a cerulean robe with golden pauldrons. There was a royal aura about her, and given the uniform attire of all the other Somni in attendance, it was clear that she was the one in charge.

“I,” Neil began, but words failed him. So much was happening so quickly. He had no idea where he was, what he was doing there, and what his family must be going through with him suddenly gone.

“This must be quite troubling for you,” Nox offered, grasping his shoulder in a comforting yet strangely hollow grip. It was as though he was being touched by a ghost.

“This is just so confusing,” Neil explained.

“Perhaps we should start from the beginning then,” Nox said.

She gestured to Rem who busied himself at the central well. With a few flourishes from him, the scene changed, and the cerulean gem in the center took on the appearance of a planet.

“Millions of years ago,” Nox began. “We Somni lived as you do. Mortals upon the blessed planet of Somnus. Ours was a paradise, and from our bountiful came a wealth of technology and hoarded knowledge. In time, we began to become aware of not only the existence of other planets throughout the universe which sustained life but entire planes of reality apart from our own.”

The planet's image changed slowly, with a number of the continents now covered in sheets of ice, while others succumbed to wildfires and volcanic eruptions.

“However this knowledge came at a terrible price. We suffered calamity after calamity, which we later discovered to be deliberate attempts to destroy us. The Somni had grown too powerful, and we were becoming a threat.”

“A threat to who?” Neil asked.

The image shifted once more, a black cloud now consuming the entire planet.

“We came to call it Kosmaro: the Nightmare. It is an entity as old as time itself, in constant combat with the Dreamer. One creates, the other destroys. As the final catastrophe rent our world asunder, the Dreamer reached out to a select few of us and granted us with these forms.”

Nox gestured to the room at large. Neil only noticed then that several of the Somni had gathered round to witness this retelling, starry gazes twinkling gently in the dim light.

“So,” Neil interjected delicately. “Why am I here?”

Nox let out an approving noise; a musical hum exhaled from her like a sigh. “For you are a Binder.”

“I've heard that term a lot lately,” Neil replied. “But I have no idea what it is.”

Nox turned her attention back to the well. “It comes down to the Threads of Fate. The history of our universe is one full of opportunity and choice. Yet several events are preordained and must occur according to the whim of the Dreamer. Their dream, their plan. Yet the incidental day-to-day interactions upon which new realities may come to exist are immaterial to them. No matter how many threads are created, all will eventually converge upon a Crossroad.”

Nox pointed to the bright golden stars floating around the threads. Neil could now notice in greater clarity that thousands of these strands all seemed to converge around every one of these points.

“This is a multiverse then,” Neil offered.

“This one is familiar with the theory,” Rem said almost approvingly, before returning to his usual stoicism. “Though their kind has barely begun to scratch the surface of the implications.”

“With a Binder in their midst, perhaps they will learn more,” Nox chastised. She then elaborated. “You see, Neil. Kosmaro has been attacking these Crossroads. And when a Crossroad is destroyed...”

With a wave of her sleeved arm, a single golden star flickered out of existence. The white strands that connected to it floated about aimlessly for a moment, connecting to nothing and seemingly adrift in the void. Another wave and a second Crossroad vanished. Now those few threads which had been connected at both points faded from existence.

Neil swallowed hard, as he remembered the desperate cries of those phantoms.

We want to go home.

And what had Rem said?

You can't.

“My family,” Neil sputtered. “Are they dead?”

Rem, frank as ever, immediately responded. “A few thousand variations of this one's family have been lost to the phenomena, but they number among several quintillion lives. It is of little consequence one way or the other as far as you are concerned.”

“Rem,” Nox warned, her tone approaching annoyed while still retaining its ethereal quality. “The thread from which you originate has not been lost. However, it and many other adjacent threads remain in jeopardy. It is fortunate that we discovered you when we did.”

The image above the well zoomed in on a small section of the web, Two Crossroads were now enlarged, with the threads between them more easily distinguishable. What Neil had once taken for a few hundred were in fact several thousand.

“Binders are Somni who are able to traverse the Threads of Fate to repair the damage done. Kosmaro is as old as time itself, and thus the strain on our universe is an inevitable part of it. Some day in the future, Kosmaro shall, eventually, win the battle. But Binders do their part to delay that unhappy hour as long as possible,” Nox explained.

One of the golden lights dimmed into a dull grey, and the threads were once again floating about in tatters, loosely connected to the other. It looked like a badly frayed knot.

“And to do that, Binders must enter these Crossroads and set the actions right. Things must play out according to the will of the Dreamer. If they are successful,” Nox touched the dimmed Crossroad once more and its light returned, setting the strands right again. “Balance is restored.”

Neil was doing all he could to keep his head straight. In summary, there was a multiverse full of temporal weak points, and these strange alien beings were saying he was one of a select few capable of repairing it.

“How?” Neil spluttered out finally. “How am I supposed to fix those? I've never seen anything like this before.”

“It is better to show you rather than tell you,” Nox said. “But for now, you should return to the world from whence you came. Rem shall be in contact with you, and will come for you when the time is right.”

“Rem?” Neil asked nervously. The stern specter had not done much in their brief interactions to inspire a sense of camaraderie in him. “Can't it be you?”

“Nox is the Voice of the Dreamer. She has matters well beyond the scope of managing this one,” Rem sighed. “I shall serve as overseer and – if the need arises – protector.”

“Take heart, Neil,” Nox said soothingly. “It is a long road you have ahead of you, but we shall be your allies every step of the way.”

With a popping sound, all the lights on the station dimmed. The room slipped away to darkness, and Neil Brown felt himself falling once more into nothingness.

#writing #cosmichorror #commissionwriting #shortfic

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iamtaran · 4 years

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Rendezvous* AU

Jaskier is a professional, usually. He had worn out all the rough edges of this particular character over the years until it felt almost more comfortable than returning to being Julian at the end of the week. It may have taken a few years to curb his decidedly modern mouth and gain the respect of his fellow re-enactors, but during the open weekend when the visitors poured in? He was always on pointe. Spending the greater portion of an entire weekend in performance, in character-- it exhilarates him. The joy from the visitors, their laughs and surprise and unprepared blushes when he singles them out for a bit. If he could, he would eat it and live on it forever. Except, well, a man has to eat real food as well, and Jaskier had skipped breakfast in his rush. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. This particular Rendezvous at Alafia River always has more bakers, potato roasters, and poorly disguised Highland Games food carts peddling fish and chips than one could shake a stick at. Jaskier had simply followed his nose. It wouldn’t be a problem... Except the baker is the most attractive man Jaskier has ever clapped eyes on. “Essi, Essi, Essi,” he chants. “Essi, you’ve- I swear, if you don’t turn around-” “Jaskier, for god’s sake,” Essi hisses, sandwiched between a wooden stall and the shielding curtain of his body where she is attempting to subtly adjust her slipping décolletage. “I’m a little busy.” “Not too busy for this! Essi,” he whines. A hand smacks his arm, hard. “I’m not getting thrown from the Voo over a nip slip you f--forking child,” she grumbles into her cleavage. That adjusted, she nudges his shoulder out of the way. “Now, what are you whining about?” She looks, as usual, gorgeous, even with the momentary fashion crisis. No one looks better in crisp white chemise and dusty rose robe anglaise in linen. Well, except- “Him.” *** (*A Rendezvous is a historical reenactment/ living history event that may last an entire extended weekend, an entire week, 9 days. Participants camp on-site in pre-1860s period clothing, using as much historically accurate gear as possible and disguising any absolutely necessary modern amenities to keep from breaking immersion. Sometimes, the last weekend of the event is open to the public non-participants to wander through, purchase from artisans and craftsmen, often including folks from local tribes, and enjoy the musical or martial performances, historic rifle ranges, archery, delicious food, hatchet throwing, and more. This encounter may or may not be inspired by a memorable Rendezvous encounter as a visitor.)

Jaskier has never in six years seen this particular baker at this particular Rendezvous. Would that I had, he thinks somewhat wildly. It’s not one thing, really, that catches his attention, which sometimes does happen. He has fallen in love with a stranger’s heavy-lidded eyes, or a singular profile, or even the way someone tucked their legs up under them in a library chair. It is the way his pale, silvery hair wisps and half-curls around his face and across his forehead, where heavy brows furrowed in concentration. It is the shocking softness of his mouth compared to the granite cut of his jaw and the roughness of his stubble. It is his hands. Jaskier thinks they might be the most beautiful hands he has ever seen. The strength, the gentleness, the competence with which they folded and kneaded, then with swift, short turns tucked the dough into a boule to add to the nearly filled board behind him. Jaskier isn’t the only one watching. The man, whether it be what Jaskier sees or the smell of his already-baked loaves, has drawn a crowd. (And he really does suspect it is a mixture of both. No one should look so good with the sweaty, unwashed Rendezvous look. Most people look as you might expect after a week-long historical camping trip. This man looks like a rugged wet dream.) Even as Jaskier looks, the baker slices the top of the dough with a slender knife frankly dwarfed in his grip, settles the boule on the board, and with a sharp flick of his elbow slides the whole dozen of them into the mouth of the clay dome oven radiating heat at his back. Even presented with the man’s astonishing back (and astonishing backside, lord, blessed be the fall-front trousers)--even then, Jaskier finds he can’t stop staring at his forearms, revealed by his rolled shirtsleeves. “Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Essi murmurs, and laughs when he jumps. “Well, go on. Go buy your bread and flirt with him. I’m going to get chowder from the fish and chip tent.” “But- Essi,” Jaskier flounders, “we, it- the performance!” They had planned to spend the last couple hours of morning trolling the main drag and the surrounding lines of tents and stalls, singing and playing, he on accordion and she the violin. They even have a couple new bits he is dying to run through. Jaskier thinks of his wallet and all the tips they might be making even now and whines. That being said, his eyes draw back to the dimple along the muscle of the baker’s forearm without his permission. Essi pats his back mockingly. “Frankly, my dear, I refuse to perform with you like this.” “Excuse me! Like what?” She doesn’t deign answer. Instead, with a wink, she steps back into the crowd, calling, “I’ll meet you at the Live Oak Stage for the noontime performances!” and leaves him there. Which is also when Jaskier hears the first keening notes of a familiar song. He already knows he is ruined before turns to take in the scene-- the baker with the fiddle pressed under his chin, the bow so delicate in his blunt-fingered hand that Jaskier’s heart leapt into his throat. The angle of his wrist, the tilt of his brows-- then he glances up through unexpectedly dark lashes and his amber eyes flash golden in the light. “Oh, Jesus wept.” *

As it would turn out, the handsome baker’s name is Geralt, and his rendition of Tiersen’s sur le fil is so beautiful that Jaskier can’t help but draw closer, like a moth to flame.

As it also turns out, the baker whose name is Geralt lowers the well-worn but immaculately tuned fiddle after the one song, allowing Jaskier to step close enough to embarrass himself. He gets half way through a too-long ramble about Tiersen’s works and praise for the man’s performance, and I’m a musician myself, can’t often be convinced to pick up a fiddle but-- when the baker grunts, points to the not-exactly historically accurate but not-not period appropriate accordion in his hands and asks, “Do you know La Noyée?” Which is how they end up playing together for the next thirty minutes until the bread has baked.

Which is also when Geralt introduces himself and gruffly thanks him, mentioning how his assistant usually accompanies him but he gave her the morning off, and then pays him in bread with a healthy slab of butter and aged cheese on top. Jaskier learns quickly that he is a man of few words. Somehow, however, he can read the sincerity in his thanks in his minute expression. They had drawn in quite a crowd, and Geralt is quickly made busy on the next batch of orders.

Jaskier knows when his presence is in the way. He is a little sad to go, but still, he knows he will be buzzing with the energy of their performance and the electric current that had passed between them every time Geralt glanced his way to time his accompaniment or signal a flourish. That can be enough. “Well, it’s been- ah, absolutely lovely playing with you, dear Geralt, but it seems I will only be in the way from this point- can’t bake to save my life, I’m afraid-” as he begins to slip away.

“Bard.” Jaskier freezes, surprised. Geralt cleans his hands off on his equally floury apron and pulls a tiny folded up pamphlet from inside its deep pocket. Jaskier takes it without thinking, on autopilot. “I’m part of a demonstration around 2, over at the fencing pit next to the musket range.” Jaskier can’t be blamed for how long it takes his brain to catch up with the unspoken invitation; but when he does, he beams.

He goes, and is promptly bowled over to find Geralt changed from his frankly too-flattering baker’s smock and fall-fronts into the traditional kilt and shirt sleeves of a highland foot soldier-- sans coat. Jaskier sees why when he lunges forward into a fast-paced mock battle with a broad sword that he slings about as if it were light as a rapier. Jaskier is... he needs to sit down.

He spends the rest of the weekend finding every excuse he can to go visit Geralt the too-handsome baker, and gets to meet his apprentice, who is also his daughter. Jaskier is stricken dumb for all of two seconds before he realizes they get on like a house on fire. Geralt has to chase them off when their chatter on historic social norms, musical trends, and current pop stars gets to be too much. Then they both have lunch with Essi, and the conversation turns to hsitoric fashion, materials, and ends with the two ladies roasting his poor man dandy outfit alive. He stands up for himself nobly. The high waisted trousers make him look trim! And braces were designed in the early 1820s, just like the accordion, thank you! Yes, he DOES know that it is considered terribly risque for his braces to be visible and not worn beneath a coat, why do they think he did it? No, he doesn’t think that they clash with his silk cravat in the least! He might be a rake and a rogue but he is still cultured. And well bathed, unlike most of the brutes around here! Essi calls him a floozy; Ciri, 16 and the least shy girl he has ever met, agrees. (He loves the two of them all the more by the end of it.)

Jaskier plays with Geralt a couple more times, after Essi gives him her blessing. She had found a bluegrass group in desperate need of a violinist after theirs abruptly came down ill, and she is more than happy to flirt with their cellist there, especially since they pop up stage in the middle of the Rendyvoo garners huge crowds of tip-happy listeners. She does chat with Ciri when she stops by, however, and Geralt. Jaskier doesn’t hear what happens, but she manages to get the big man to flush. Jaskier wonders on it for the rest of the day. Will she reveal her secrets??

The Voo ends and Jaskier is a besotted wreck. He tries quite hard to make his goodbye to father and daughter not the least bit tearful-- and immediately fails when Geralt pulls out a smartphone and gruffly tells him to put his number in.

They live much closer than they might have assumed. I can’t decide if Geralt really does own a bakery, or if that’s just his somewhat secret hobby and in reality his profession better matches his dangerous strongman persona-- a garage, a historic fencing and swordplay gym, perhaps a high-paid security professional. All of them have some interesting possibilities, I’ll be honest. Regardless, working Rendezvous’s and ren faires is half hobby half side-profession. Jaskier is thrilled to find that, since moving to the area recently, he and Geralt will be working a lot of the same events. He is excited a completely normal amount.

Y’all know what’s up. Wooing. Courting. Two idiots who don’t recognize their emotions (because, yes, Jaskier might have realized Geralt is a looker, but it takes him much longer to realize what the fuzzy feeling in his gut is whenever Geralt is particularly soft, or speaks gently to his daughter, or smile when their huge great dane comes barreling out to greet them and oh, no.) Also, historic costumes that just, they just really inspire some thirst.

If y’all think for a moment Geralt looks any less handsome in modern clothes, you are surely mistaken. Jaskier despairs the first time he sees him. It’s just... it’s not fair!

Except the local ren faire comes around and it’s Geralt’s turn to despair. He may, in fact, never recover. Y’all know that post that’s been going around...

ok fin. that’s all i got, i hope yall enjoyed.

#the witcher #fanfic #geraskier #taran writes #historical reenactment AU #yes there was a real baker who was real handsome #he pulled out the accordion and his assistant the fiddle and played a yann tiersen song i can't remember the name of but recognize every tim #and my gay little heart went OH #do i want to be you or are you just fantastic?#jokes on you baby taran #the answer was both

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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02/06/2021 DAB Transcript

Exodus 23:14-25:40, Matthew 24:29-51, Psalms 30:1-12, Proverbs 7:24-27

Today is the 6th day of February welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is a joy to be here with you today as we approach the end of another one of our weeks together. And when we conclude our reading for today, we will have completed nearly…nearly a full week of the month of February. So, it is exciting to be on this journey and take the next step forward, which will lead us back into the book of Exodus. And if we remember we are at the mountain of God. We are with the children of Israel surrounding Mount Sinai. God is speaking and beginning to lay out some of the principles and rituals and laws that He is integrating as He weaves together the tapestry of the Hebrew people. So, we’re reading from the Voice Translation this week, which is today. Exodus chapter 23 verse 14 to 25 verse 40.

Prayer:

Father we thank You for Your word. We thank You for another week and it. They’re just kind of…well. They’re moving by day by day step-by-step they’re moving by as they should but we’re recognizing that we’re moved into this new year. This is our year to live and You are instructing us. And we thank You for the word over this year, to “Mend”. This is this year of mending. And, so, we hear what was written in the Psalms today, the 30th chapter - “Eternal one, my true God, I cried out to You for help. You mended the shattered pieces of my life.” That is our prayer God. Some of us came into this new year unrecognizable completely shattered into a billion pieces and some of us feel that way right now. But this isn’t a matter of degree. It’s not like we’re trying to measure up to see whose more shattered here. We’re all broken, and we've all got shattered pieces in our lives, we have shattered pieces in our hearts. Life has dealt us some blows. It does this to everyone. And we are instructed to love You with our whole heart, and we confess that there are broken pieces of our hearts. Come as is in the Psalms. We cry out to You for help. You mend the shattered pieces of our lives. So, as we release this week as it becomes a part of our history, we look forward into the future for You to mend the shattered pieces of our lives. Come Holy Spirit we pray in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com that is home base, that is where you find out what's going on around here. And an alternative to that would be the Daily Audio Bible app, which you can also find out what’s going on around here. So, stay…stay connected.

Be aware of the Community section, be aware of the Prayer Wall. Visit the Prayer Wall. Be aware of the resources that are available in the Daily Audio Bible Shop.

And if you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible I…I can't thank you enough. I Can't thank you enough. We wouldn't be here if we were not in this together. I…I say that often say that often because it's the truth. So, thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage. If you're using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you've a prayer request or encouragement hit the Hotline button in the app. No matter where you are on this planet hit the Hotline button in the app and you can share from there or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi this is Renzo from Maryland. I just wanna pray for the girl on the other line. This is February 1st. I just want to pray for the other girl on the other line that said her mom was a drug addict and she was 13 years old. I just want to say that's amazing that you’re on here reading the gospel at 13 years old. Keep keep…doing that. That's amazing. And I just pray for your mom right now. Father God I just thank You for everything that You do for us and I just please pray God that her mom just recovers from this addiction God. I believe You can heal anybody's addiction God. You’ve healed mine. You’ve healed my addiction to porn God, and I thank You that You healed that for me, and I've been clean for almost two years now and I thank You God that You did that. And, so, please just help her to just get closer to You God and just forgive her of what she did. Sometimes it’s so hard for us to forgive and that's how it was for me God. I just thank You for You for everything that You do for us God and we love You in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen. God bless you have a good rest of your day.

Hi this is Tiffany at first time caller from Cleveland OH. I've been listening every day this year and I pray with you daily. I feel so close to the DAB family and I thank you Brian for your love. Today I ask for prayer for my husband Tony and I. February 24th will be seven years since our daughter Janna's death. Our grief is difficult through this month as we remember our girl gone too soon. Grief also affects my ability to focus. Please pray for me to love my husband, to feel, to focus, and to be a good mom to my living children. Thank you in advance.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible this is Emily from Minnesota and actually this is my first year doing DAB. I started January 1st and I found it to be such a blessing. I have been hit with a bit of suffering the past couple of years period. It started with my son who died by suicide his freshman year of College in his dorm. And my family really wants…doesn't want to go to God for this. So, I am just simply embracing Jesus to carry me through. And then also my parents and my two brothers they've all been hit pretty hard. My mom was placed in memory care last year upstate when Covid hit in March and my dad is living independently but is showing strong signs of dementia and isn’t really willing to accept a lot of help. My younger brother lost his wife to cancer November 30th with a young family of four. And I have an older brother who appears to be struggling with addiction and homelessness. I just want to ask you all to lift up my family. I just do the best I can and rely on Jesus to carry me through each day each step. It's rough some days. And I know He has a plan and I know…I know God knows and I would just to ask for your support in my journey. Thank you.

Hey, my supportive DAB family this is Kingdom Seeker Daniel. Family, support is absolutely what I need right now. The short of it is I received a call from my ex-wife which is a miracle all by itself. She was very distraught and informed me that our son Daniel the 2nd, basically snapped and was admitted into a psych ward. And I guess they were trying to prescribe some meds to him, and he refused. But at any rate after several attempts to reach him I finally got a chance to talk with him and he did not sound like my son, did not sound like my son at all and I just need your prayers. I’m believing God to rescue my boy from this place that he's in. And, so, I'm asking if my family would come around Daniel Christopher young the 2nd? My ex-wife also informed me several years later that my…my youngest Hannah was assaulted twice. Why she chose not to tell me until eight years later I don't know but needless to say Hannah is in a bad place as well. My oldest Bianca is confused with her identity sexually. And, so, family will you please pray for my children. Bianca, and Daniel, and Hannah.

[singing starts] Oh, my Savior I am so grateful I'm Yours. Oh, my Savior I am so grateful I'm Yours. With every new sun that rises Your mercy it meets me there. Your faithfulness is unchangeable. You always love me and care. Oh, my Savior I am so grateful I'm Yours. Oh, my savior I am so grateful I'm yours. [singing stops] I lift this offering up to you Jesus and I ask Lord that you would cover the Daily Audio Bible family with your blood, that you would fill them to full and overflowing with your Holy Spirit, that you would protect them, keep them safe, bless them. And father God let us enter deeper into your presence. Great is your faithfulness. We love you so much. In Jesus’ name we ask these things. What a miracle. I love you Treasured Possession.

Well, hello everybody and congratulations you finished your first month listening to the DAB. Job well done. That is awesome. So, welcome all new listeners and of course us long time listeners this is Lori music the transplant from Chicago down to beautiful Hebrew Springs Arkansas. Lord I'm just coming to You and we’re thanking You for the people that do call in and share their stories and prayer requests and many of them just break my heart Father God, but I pray immediately for You all. But I'm calling today to come before the Lord with the unspoken prayer requests, the ones that people are too shy or timid to call in and request. So, Father You know these unspoken prayers Father God. You know our hearts You know our needs You know our wants and our desires Father. So, I'm asking a special blessing on those people that haven't called in yet and that You answer their prayers Father God. And Lord You know I've been out of a job since November, but I know that Your timing is perfect Father. So, every day when I wake up, I will say this is the day that the Lord has made I will rejoice and be glad in it. Oh wow, so, I'm starting my 11th year on DAB and my second year on Chronological. I pray for Brian and Jill and China, give them special blessing father. We love you all. Have a blessed day.

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silenthillmutual · 5 years

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Death Note (completed list)

all L/Light, unless specified otherwise.

Top 5:

Best Wishes From a Goddess of Death by The_Maiden_of_Autumn; M (fluff, AU, angst) Misa Amane is not stupid- oblivious and airheaded sometimes, but definitely not lacking in intelligence. She can see the way Light and L are together, the regretful, sorrowful looks L gives her whenever she speaks to Light. She knows where this is heading; she just doesn't want it to be this way. But she's made her bed, and wishes them happiness, she truly does. Slight LightxL

Cake Crumbs And Bed Sheets by Jenwryn; M (AU, fluff, romance) An inexplicable and very fluffy AU, written for Australia Day. In which L eats lamingtons and vanilla slice - and has help to fall asleep.

Kanji by sashocirrione; T (fluff, AU, hurt/comfort) Light is bringing L home to meet his sister and mother, as L is now his boyfriend. But Light can't shake off the feeling that he was somehow tricked into the situation. Fluffy and probably somewhat OOC, not my usual style. Written for Persefone88, one of the winners of my 100th review contest, (started back when I was still running that contest).

(Now And Then There’s) A Fool Such As I by Light It Up; T (AU, fluff) Knowing he couldn’t miss his first class, L took a deep breath and strode into the hallways, ignoring anyone who tried talking to him. By the time he was sitting at Biology and had his pencil twirling between his fingers, hearing the teacher explaining things he already knew and the girls to his right talking about stupidities he didn’t want to know, L just wanted to vent about how he was feeling. However, he would never do that with someone he actually knew.

you’re a wasp nest by raisuki; M (fluff, AU) But Light was already wandering off, his cane clicking rhythmically as he navigated the halls. He gave L a half-hearted wave before merging back into the flow of people. L was fairly sure he has just been tricked into buying Light Yagami dinner, and he was also pretty sure Light Yagami is the most audacious person he had ever met.

and now, for all the rest!

K/K+

Ambiguity Among Two by Fledgling [L x Light. Hugging. Handcuffed. Ficlet.] L shuddered at the memory, and briefly, he dug his fingertips into Light's back, willing bruises inside that whispered of sleepless, difficult nights.

Bedtime by Servant Gabrielle (humor, romance) Drabble. LightxL. Sometimes, being handcuffed together caused a few problems.

Candy by Eriko Myoujin (romance) L wants to know if Raito enjoys candy. Supposed to take place during the time Raito has forfeited his memories of the Death Note. A silly little thing written for an LJ community. [LxRaito]

Candy is Dandy by firedraygon (humor) During a latenight investigation, L is craving some chocolate. LxRaito

Duplicity’s a Matter of Fact by lefcadio Light x L. A thunderstorm, an unexpected conversation, and cake.

I’m Glad I Found You by bri-notthecheese (+Misa/Matsuda; romance, friendship) No one would have expected a relationship to blossom between Investigator Touta Matsuda and Model Misa Amane. However, if a friendship developed between them while she was under suspicion and then she eventually decided to let Light go, Matsuda would be the perfect prince waiting for her when she decided that he was who she truly wanted and needed. Matsuisa ftw.

Observations by Asidian L does some unconventional observations. Too bad he can't convince himself it's for the good of the investigation. Light x L.

Out of Focus by Chiba.Kun (romance) [LightxL] Written from Light's POV. Oneshot. Not much to it. When the two are handcuffed together, innocent desires surface. I apologize for the crappy summary.

Sleepy Chains by WellspringIsSuperLame (romance) In which a tired Raito becomes rather suspicious of Ryuuzaki. Random little one-shot, LxRaito fun.

Starlight by subdivided (drama, romance) AU manga ending, LLight, one shot. The Kira case is declared solved before Light can regain his memory. He and L leave the party early, for a garden under the stars.

Sweeter Than Sugar by Manwyn (romance) LxRaito. L offer Raito one of his treats... AN: Sorry i'm not very good with summarys.

What I Lay Down by mleeph (romance, drama) Love comes in percentages, but sacrifice is a matter of absolutes. Thus, L comes to a realization at 1:19 in the morning. [Raito x L ]

3:19 Am by Tierfal (romance, drama) This is really not the time of day at which Light prefers to discuss their respective revelations.

Bad Habits by domo (humor) Light hates it when Ryuuzaki bites his nails, Ryuu just wants to know if Light is gay or not.

Bananas by Tierfal (humor, romance) Best. Idea. EVER.

Cake by Desmenn

Confused "No thanks. I'm fine like this- confused."

Counting the Coffee Drip by NOT_TOWA_WAKASA (fluff) Light is a blind man who loves to count. L finds him curious, and wades through the holiday season to visit him wherever he may appear.

Dance With Me by dotti55 Light wants talks L into trying a new experience.

Easily Entertained by Tierfal (humor, romance) It's an important distinction.

First & Final by overdose I watched the most emotional Death Note scene in Death Note history. (I've only made it to L's death) So, I decided to do something with it. Kinds sucky and rushed.

The First Noel by OctaviaPeverell (romance) Because L loves Christmas desserts and Light can't get enough of handcuffs!

Four Minutes of Solitude by Tierfal (humor, romance) L tries to take a break, the operative word being "tries."

Heaven-Sent Hypocrisy by Tierfal (romance, fluff) Somebody up there was looking out for him.

mellifera by alharper He sleeps beside you, spare hand curled around the chain, six feet of arrogant beauty and ruthless intelligence softened and hidden.

Oh So Smart by Zanganito (+Misa/Light; fluff, angst, humor, hurt/comfort) Misa decides to have movie night! During the film, Light makes a few unwelcome realizations and is moved to tears. L takes advantage of the opportunity to mock him relentlessly. Set just after the conclusion of the Yotsuba arc.

On A Boat by Tierfal (humor, angst, romance, hurt/comfort, AU) Light is considering throwing himself over the side and trying to drown.

Perilous by Tierfal (humor, romance) It's just another evening… until it's not.

Perverted by Tierfal (humor, romance) It's all about the contingency plans.

Provocation by Jenwryn (humor) "I would not provoke Watari-san if I were you, Light-kun."

Resolved Tension by norestforthewckd (fluff) Light Yagami does not like Ryuzaki. Light Yagami is a very big liar with a bit of a soft spot for a certain man.

Sub Finem by RatatoskMode "...I still can’t believe that this is the end. No, it’s more like I don’t want to believe it. The only person I deemed worthy of taking my life was L himself, but to go this way is pathetic." Light Yagami is dying, and he's visited by a familiar ghost of his past.

The Taste by Tierfal (romance, AU) It makes perfect sense.

Will You Be My Valentine? by TabbyCat33098 (AU, fluff) L has been getting mysterious presents all day long, presents of a...how do you say? Romantic persuasion. What is going on? Who's sending these?

Word Play by CuteCat213 (AU, fluff) Remarkable: worthy of attention; striking. L bit his thumb and watched Light. His boyfriend certainly was striking. And he was sure Light wouldn't mind; there had to be at least six other things more creepy than watching his boyfriend sleep and tying to think of words to describe it.

Antioxidant Properties by remarks Rivals getting hot and bothered (mismatched socks and a kiwifruit).

Are you Lonesome Tonight? by Light It Up Their time apart had scarred the both of them. There were days someone would mention that High School relationships didn’t last long, or that when two people started dating at a too young age, they always ended up drifting apart. Those days were when L was the most vulnerable, and Light made sure to spend the night with him, whether at the Yagami house or at L and Watari’s.

The Boy’s Too Refined by sabriel75 (AU) The notorious detective, Sherlock Holmes, takes too keen of interest in Light and L's affairs. He suffers a concussed head for it. Light loses his innocence. Both were bound to happen sometime though as far as John Watson and L were concerned.

Caveat Emptor by Tierfal (humor, drama) In which there are shopping trips, sarcasm, backhanded compliments, dark rooms, big guns, bubble baths, trauma of every sort, and detailed fantasies involving cake - lots of those. Let the buyer beware indeed. L/Light.

Cherade by lefcadio Light x L. When you're handcuffed to someone, insomnia takes its toll in one way or another.

A Different Decision by phoenixjustice Maybe a world free of criminals and ran by Kira would truly be a better place.

Fevered by Ivydoll (Mello/Near; romance, drama) MelloNear. When Near's illness jars the boys' comfort zones, they lose some of their control and experience a slight tilt towards one another.

Fidgeting by Tierfal (romance, fluff, AU) "Don't squirm."

From the (Very Private) Notebook Of... by Shayheyred (humor, crack) Probability that L is a dork: 100%

The Ghost Inside You by slightowl In which Light must learn to cope with an undead roommate. (An LxLight ghost story.)

Giving And Taking by Jenwryn (AU, romance) AU. The Kira case is closed, and L had promised himself he'd make a move on his partner-in-crime-solving but... there's too much to risk losing.

grow old or something by youremyqueen The afterlife is a bit like normal life, in that it's completely dull.

Lay Your Hands On Me by Light It Up (AU, fluff) Of course, though, it was only seldom that Light remembered that. He couldn’t care less about when he’d leave this small, crappy apartment, not when every now and then he could catch scenes and sounds so enticing from the man he’d been in love with for about a year and a half.

Love Tonight by Light It Up (AU, fluff) Light looks at him with tears in his eyes, blinking a few times to force them back. Almost shyly, he nods, so L reaches up to brush away a stray tear from his cheek. “It’s your birthday, you idiot,” Light explains then, hugging his knees as close to him as he can.

Never Forgotten by metal goat (angst) Raito can never seem to forget L, no matter how hard he tries... LRaito, some RaitoMisa. Spoilers for Ch.58. Shounenai. Oneshot

The Plan by strange_isle (drama, AU) Light's scheme was both devious and elegant. Too bad it's gone awry. Now in the aftermath, L demands answers, but Light's not exactly in the most amenable of moods.

A Pocketful of Posey by Edmondia Dantes Redux (drama) Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Light/L.

Sour Candy by Edmondia_Dantes On the taste of apples and sugar.

Special Quality by Tasogare Nagisa (crack) We are all defined by that one special quality; if only we knew what that quality was...

Sweet Things by Light it Up (AU, fluff) Their relationship had started just before the Kira case was closed. Light confessed to the detective that he was the assassin, and when he thought L was going to handcuff him and send him to prison, where he would wait for the jury to decide when his death sentence would take place, L had instead kissed him. Although he could never be completely sure of it, Light guessed that the fact that he was crying when he confessed was the factor that made L’s mind up.

Sweetest Decay by Fantastical Queen Ebony Black (Mello/Near; angst) Letting you get the better of me. MelloNear [Spoilers for chapters in the 90's]

Taste by Hikaru R Kudou (humor) Shounen ai, Raito and L. A conversation between the two over breakfast. Raito: "I happen to like them that way. Is my taste bothering you?"

Unreliable as the Mind by Ramasi Losing and regaining his memories doesn't make Light's already complicated feelings for his opponent any simpler; and L might have even less scruples about killing someone he loves.

What you’ve always known by Devilinthebox (hurt/comfort, angst) Light comforts L about his body image. L tries to put distance but needs the comfort. He lets some defenses down (Request)

White Sepulcher by World’sOnlyConsultingTimeLady (angst, romance) L's rationality falls on an ordinary, dull night. L/Light one shot

Winter Wonderland by Light it Up (fluff, AU) What Light didn’t mention, was that he was extremely sensitive to the cold. He had never gone out during the Christmas holidays because when he was very little, he had come down with pneumonia after staying out on a windy day, so his parents never allowed him out again.

World is Mine by Light it Up (fluff, AU) Given that information, it’s quite obvious that Light lost, and the idea L had was certainly the most embarrassing thing Light has ever heard in his life. His cheeks are read in the mirror, and he turns a few times to look at himself from every angle, his heart pounding against his chest. This is so not a good idea, and he’s sure L just wants to see him like that to laugh at him, but God, Light has to admit that he likes what he’s seeing.

Almost Oblivion by Serria L knows that Light doesn't close his eyes at night for fear of waking up as Kira. L, on the contrary, won't rest until that transition is complete.

An Apple a Day by hyperRme (romance, crime) ...but if the doctor is cute forget the fruit. L turns this into his motto when he is forced to see doctor Raito because of his sugar only diet. As he pursues the doctor, L learns that the murderer he is trying to catch is pursuing Raito’s life.

At Night by Vehuel (PWP) Things that happen at night should stay between the two of them. Secret, and covered in darkness.

Chance of Circumstances by wordbombs (romance, humor) Sometimes all happiness takes is a change of circumstances. L/Light, fluffly lemon meringue AU one-shot. Answers- What if Light was a Wammy?

Choose by reaperlight (AU, fluff, angst, humor) Light isn't too fond of Valentine's Day. As it turns out neither is L...

Control by mmmdraco From the 3 Sentence Ficathon: Death Note, L/Light, control

Daylight The Light Does Bring by Jenwryn (romance, fluff, AU) The detective rolls onto his side, displacing Light's trailing thumb, and stares up at the younger man.

Guilty until proven Innocent by Callicanios (mystery, romance) Kira has emerged, the great detective L sets out to stop him. Only thing, Light is not Kira. Due to the explicitly of the chapters beyond chapter 14 the rating will be changed to M. LxLight

Softly Now by Jenwryn (romance, AU) The apartment is laced with the smell of fresh paint, and L has flecks of blue upon his cheeks.

Somnambulism by reaperlight (crack, humor) Light does not appreciate L’s sense of humor.

Submission by lichenglie “I think you forget, Light Yagami, that I am just as childish as Kira is,” he says, “and I hate to lose.”

Water, water, water by Devilinthebox In the bath, they forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom. At least, it’s how Light sees it.

Anger Before Bliss by mannysue (angst) L was depressed. Depressed that his deduction was wrong. Light is very much not pleased by this change in L's demeanor. He decides to take action.

Bang! by youremyqueen Written for the second death note kink meme, prompt was: in bed with a fully loaded gun.

by night we go naked, by day we go blind by youremyqueen Written for the second death note kink meme, prompt was: sensory deprivation.

Can’t I Even Dream? by Light It Up (fluff, smut) They didn’t kiss; it was more like breathing each other’s air, being as close as physics allowed them to. Sometimes Light wished they could just freeze the world and stay in a moment forever, just enjoying their own company and that instant when their bodies were in perfect synchrony, hips meeting at every precise thrust.

Clean by FayJay Set during the period when Light had given up the Death Note, and didn't know he was Kira.

Dirty by FayJay Set during the period when Light had given up the Death Note, and did not know he was Kira. (Sequel to 'Clean', but can be read as a standalone.)

Interested in Learning More by Shadow_Of_Quill Light isn't asexual. He just has... unusual interests. And Ryuuzaki is very observant.

Intermission by Shiraume What happened right after the infamous fight in Vol 5.

Just Before Sunset by Evilchuckles (romance) Perhaps they don't want to remember. Perhaps it's enough to be happy.

Linked by Shayheyred The chain is not what connects them

Low of Solipsism by Light It Up (AU, fluff) Even after six months of them dating, Light still wondered what it was about L that drove him so wild. Before him he used to be a quiet lover, rarely making any sounds more than a moan here and there. That being said, it’s easy to understand that Light was surprised when they first started touching each other and he instantly became vocal.

Playing the Part by Vector L was alone in his intent stare at the monitors.

Roundabout Truth by Ramasi Light is furious when he's kept in chains after he regains his memories; he has no choice but to try and figure out L further.

See Me by Shadow_of_Quill (AU) Light sometimes thinks he'd give anything to have someone see him for who he really is.

Something to Think About by dotti55 Having moved to The Wammy's House together, L and Light share their first Valentine's Day together, and make some discoveries about their relationship and their future together.

That Night by sashocirrione L and Light have a hotel-room encounter that is not at all accidental. Complete but open-ended.

Time Out by epkitty (fluff) They were handcuffed together for how long???

#lawlight #death note #ok to rb #long post #fic recs #nori talks #hopefully there's nothing gross in here i don't actually remember what like 90% of these are about #this is just everything i have bookmarked

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thestraggletag · 5 years

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The Deal, a RCIJ Fic

Author’s Note: It is I, @iatethebiscuit, your Secret Santa! So happy to say I had NO panicky “DID I HIT THE ANON BUTTON?” moments with you this year, which was a pleasant surprise. Thanks for letting me be your santa and for giving me ideas and support! I hope this is to your liking and happy Christmas in July. which totally should be a real thing.

Also I’m sorry that the summary absolutely BLOWS this time around but I promise it’s a good story!

Prompt: Is the baby okay?

Summary: To wish for a child is a dangerous thing, Belle knows. As it is to make a deal with a creature as old and as powerful as Mr Gold. But everything worth having required leaps of faith and bouts of bravery, including love.

Rating: M

She smirked, looking at the clock right next to the Children’s Corner to confirm that she had guessed right. As she had imagined it wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning. When he’d begun to visit her almost daily Mr Gold made a pretence of stopping by on his way to Granny’s for a lunch break, his entire demeanour as professional and as aloof as ever as he enquired after her child with the same tone as one might enquire after the weather. It was calculated and effortless at the same time and she marvelled at his capacity for subterfuge. If he hadn’t pulled the same stunt at least half a dozen times before she wouldn’t have noticed. She rubbed her swollen belly absentmindedly, smiling down at it.

“He’s been sleeping all day, but I can feel him moving now.”

She was sure it wasn’t a coincidence, sure that her babe could feel Mr Gold the same way she could sense him when he was nearby. She wondered what other people saw when they looked at him, since they clearly could not see what she did.

“Little one must be hungry.” His voice sounded concerned, but she couldn’t tell whether it was genuine or a pretext for what was coming next. “I think a trip to Granny’s is in order.”

Belle was sure he was convinced she’d forget to eat entirely if he didn’t remind her, and to be fair that did tend to happen from time to time, specially when she got her hands on an interesting book. He leaned forward, eyes glowing gold for a second, so faintly she barely caught it.

“You need the protein, dearie. Wee bairn is hungering for something bloody. I must insist.”

His smile was predatory and nowhere near human, and he kept it as she attacked a rare steak in front of him with relish, Ruby commenting on how it was good to see her eating so well.

“Baby’s gonna be a strong little wolf. Granny’s been knitting him an entire winter wardrobe.”

She made sure her friend was out of earshot before laughing.

“I can’t believe it still. No one’s said a peep about it. They just accept the baby, as if it’s completely normal that I just up and got pregnant one day.”

“I did promise you, my dear. And I never break a deal.”

Another shark smile, another flash of gold in his eyes and a bit of scales on his neck. And yet no one else could see it. She had been able to tell right away, though, even from afar. It hadn’t been the first time either, so it hadn’t shocked her. She had always been aware of things most people didn’t see, but hadn’t realised at first it was strange, because her mother had been like her too, had been able to see things that for most people weren’t there. People who glimmered, small creatures that blinked in an out of existence, beings that were see-through or disguised themselves as animals.

She’d hated it, after her mother died, for a long time. Especially during her commitment, when every glimpse of something other had felt like the universe mocking her. She’d had made her peace with it since then, and now saw her oddity as a nice gift from her mother, something to remember her by.

Even though she’d had always been able to see what others didn’t, she couldn’t say she’d ever encountered anything like Mr Gold. Ancient, for one, and powerful, dangerous in a way that had made her wary of approaching him at first. He’d always been cordial and courteous with her, but his reputation as a cutthroat dealmaker had put her off, even though the deals people talked about were not like the one she had in mind. To mix magic with a reputation like that could only spell trouble.

But her need had been too strong, so in the end she had caved in and sought him out, finding out his true name and summoning him. It was an old practice, out of style as he’d told her later, and had caught him by surprise. He above any other fae she’d been able to spot had mastered the art of adaptability: where others struggled and faded he changed and survived, thrived even. He hadn’t thought there were humans who could see into his true nature anymore, not unless he revealed himself.

Luckily he had been amenable to the deal, once she had explained it. A deal with a fairy for a child was as straightforward as it came, once upon a time it had been a common enough bargain for whoever was willing to pay a price. But now, with science and adoption, and the abandonment of the belief in magic and the old ways, it was a rarity. But science hadn’t been enough to help her conceive, and her mental history made adoption impossible in practice, if not in theory.

She had told him that, in the most succinct way possible, unwilling to share more than what was absolutely necessary. When he’d enquired about the potential father of the babe she’d told him there was no one to fill that position. Romantic love had never come easy to her, and certainly never the kind that she’d want to cement in such a permanent way. But she longed for family, for a child. He’d done it before, he told her, granted the wish for a child to a woman with no husband or partner.

“It’s not impossible, but it does come at a steep cost, particularly taking into account what I must contribute. Are you willing to pay it, dearie?”

Fifteen years was a lot of time to shave off her life expectancy, but not so much that it would mean leaving her child motherless before they reached adulthood, which was what she cared most about. He had gone into the back room of his shop, where she could tell most of the objects displayed were not what they seemed, particularly the old spinning wheel in the corner. He’d spun literal straw into Gold- if fit, given his true name- and had fashioned the thread into a small seed, which he had instructed her to ingest if and when she was ready. She had swallowed it with a glass of water the moment she was back at the library and had woken up with a white streak in her hair and her stomach roiling with what she discovered was morning sickness.

She had stopped by his shop to thank him, hugging him in her exuberance. He’d shied away in a manner that was a stark contradiction to his dangerous nature, fingers twitching nervously. He’d looked ancient then, atrophied in some way, before she blinked and his usual mask was back on. He’d congratulated her in a stilted way, assuring her that he always delivered on a deal and all that he detailed in it.

“You’re miles away, Miss French, and that steak’s getting cold.” He gently tapped her wrist, encircled by a gold woven bracelet. “My magic may give the child a lot of what he needs, but it can only do so much.”

She had almost forgotten how awful the first months of the pregnancy had been. Nothing had stayed down at first. Citrics in particular became revolting to her, as did a lot, if not most, of processed food. Everyone kept telling her it was normal but she grew concerned as she began to lose weight instead of gaining it. When she grew deeply scared she went to Mr Gold, who seemed genuinely offended she had not come to him sooner.

“I promised a healthy bairn, Miss French. You should’ve told me if that promise didn’t seem to be materialising.”

Gingerly, after asking her for permission, he laid a hand on her stomach, closing his eyes and frowning after a few seconds. When he opened his eyes again he looked at her in a strangely speculative way and sent her home with instructions to eat very rare meat and berries. The meal, as unappetising as it had sounded, was delicious and settled nicely in her stomach. No one commented on her new habit of purchasing meat daily- though her librarian budget rankled a bit- nor did they question her long walks in the woods in search of blackberries and the like.

She hadn’t expected to see Mr Gold once the problem resolved itself, though her energy was still flagging and she was having problems with falling asleep several times during the day. But he began to come to the library often, enquiring after a particular book or a topic of interest, and during the conversation he’d ask after the child, as if it was a passing concern. He’d get close sometimes, closer than what she was used to with him in any case, and his visage would turn less human than usual for a moment or two, as if his human facade slipped slightly.

It wasn’t until he found her dozing off in the Ancient History section that he told her of a notion he’d had for a while, that he could now confirm. He smelt magic around her, which he hadn’t before, and with the further development of the baby had been able to confirm the magic came from him. It was that what was leeching her energy, the wee one’s magical aptitudes developing, using her life force in order to do so.

“An unexpected development, for sure, but not entirely out of the question. Changeling children have always been rare, but nowadays they’re downright a near impossibility. The only time I’ve ever produced a child with only one human parent he was fully human himself, so I had no notion things would not be the same this time around. I do apologise for the inconvenience, Miss French, and have devised a means of helping you through the rest of your pregnancy.”

It was then that he gave her the gold bracelet, which shimmered in a way she knew had nothing to do with the metal it was made out of.

“It’s got enough of my magic to feed the babe. It should make things easier from now on.”

The bracelet had indeed done as he’d promised and soon she began to notice the increasing swell of her stomach. Though she had been afraid of what the townspeople would say, no one commented on it, and if they did it was only to congratulate her. Not one question about the father, or a snide remark on her single status. It was all as Mr Gold promised.

Magic worked mysteriously, but it puzzled her less than the fae himself, who kept turning up at the library or at Granny’s when she was around, something he had not done before. His interest in the child was soon obvious- “I aim to keep my end of the bargain, lest my reputation suffer.”- and surprisingly she found that she did not mind it. Aside from the fascination that his non-human nature inspired he was an old creature, and had lived a fascinating life. One that she could sometimes cajole him into share tidbits of with her, though at first with the clear intention of putting her off and curtail her curiosity. He told her of the wars he’d seen, the violence and horror of the days of old, when magic was much more plentiful and the greed of man and fae had done terrible things with it. He seemed surprised when that did not stop her questions of her welcoming his company, but it did not stop his visits, just changed them in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

He was a hoarder, of both stories and objects. It became usual for him to let her take a peek into the back room of his shop, often telling her about an item there and the power it possessed. Most of them had once been worthy of awe and fear, but time had leached their magic away bit by bit till little remained. Enough to make the object hum to Belle’s eyes and ears, still, but nothing that inspired the feelings Mr Gold did.

She offered bits of herself for every part of his long life he shared with her. Things about her mother and herself, the strange gift they both shared and the bond it had created. One particularly vulnerable afternoon he enquired after her time at the asylum, in hushed, respectful tones. He listened patiently to her recollection of it. Her father had had her committed, soon after her mother’s passing. He’d meant well, which he told her only made things worse, more painful. She hadn’t been able to reconcile with him before he’d passed away, and as she cried, holding on to the fae in a manner she had no right to, he told her he’d seldom met anyone so brave. He’d told her about the other child he’d created with no father, Baelfire, and how he’d also been brave.

“Too brave for someone who could die so easily, though I suppose I was lucky.”

He told her how his mother had made a second deal with him when the lad was around four, giving him up in exchange for riches and adventure, and how he’d raised him up as his own, which he was in a way. They shared enough in terms of blood for the child to be a vulnerability that could be used against him, so he’d taken him in. He’d raised him, thinking that he could one day make a deal with him for eternal life so they could be together. But the child had been too human, and had grown old and faded before his eyes.

It began to worry her, that. Her child, her son, would he be human enough to grow old and die? He didn’t want him to grow lonely, specially since she’d die sooner than even a regular human was expected to. Mr Gold, she’d learned, was painfully lonely, in a way she would never understand, as lonely as she had sometimes felt, particularly at the asylum. To live centuries alone, to watch his kin fade and die…

She had never met a creature more apt for survival. Cunning and patient, clever and powerful, it did not take much to understand how he’d gotten to be so old, and so prosperous. And so tired, at the same time. A long life of isolation sounded like the worst sort of punishment, and she grew worried for her child, for little Gideon. So when she began catching Mr Gold looking at her swollen belly, his hands twitching in that way she knew meant he wanted to reach out, to feel the babe, she grew hopeful. Gideon need not be alone after she was gone if the fae took an interest in him.

The more she thought about it the more it made sense, though she didn’t dare voice her new hope aloud. Instead she concentrated on feeding his budding interest in her child, letting him see ultrasounds and telling him about doctor’s appointments and such. And little by little, day by day, a sort of greed grew in Mr Gold’s eyes. Like a light slowly being turned on inside him, bringing newfound life to him. His dull scales, when they showed, now shone with a deeper gold colour and his presence grew in weight, to the point that Belle could feel him way before he stepped into her Library when he came to visit.

Those visits turn to trips to Granny’s and sometimes back to his shop. A strange sort of tension grew between them, which Belle hoped meant Mr Gold was getting attached, was seeing the possibility offered to him of a child that could be a companion, and was now looking to make a new deal, to tie himself to the child. She pushed further, gently prying into his personal space, where the very air seemed to softly vibrate with the echoes of his restrained power. He was skittish at first, endearingly so, but once the baby started moving he became intrigued by the notion of it, daring to ask once or twice to feel it.

It was unexpected but nice to have a partner through the pregnancy. Mr Gold wasn’t as she had expected, certainly less fearsome than shat had thought at first. Handsome, for sure, in a way that she hoped little Gideon would inherit. That and his sense of humour, dry and dark and just the right kind of strange.

She’d miss the closeness once little Gid was born and Mr Gold would have less incentive to interact directly with her. The closer she grew to her due date the more restless she became, both mentally and physically. Pregnancy, which had given her glowing skin- with the tiniest bit of an unnatural shine, she noticed, her child’s magic and Gold’s mingling on her skin- and great hair, had overstayed its welcome and turned acutely uncomfortable, specially when it came to sleep.

Her discomfort grew to the point that Mr Gold remarked on it, nose scrunched up.

“You reek of desperation, my dear. Whatever is the matter?”

She explained, though she imagined the pacing she was doing was helping her convey her problem more than her words ever could. He tilted his head, considering her.

“Want to strike a deal, Miss French?”

The words were purred at her in his customary brogue, thicker than what was usual. She’d interpreted the deepening of his accent around her as a sign that he had grown comfortable around her. He also dropped his human mask more around her, with his face sometimes entirely covered by his scales and his nails sharpened into claws. She looked forward increasingly to those small glimpses of his true nature.

“What do you have in mind, Mr Gold?”

“I’ll trade you relaxations for… that button on your pocket.”

It was a trifle, a small golden button she’d found at the bottom of her closet, matching none of her clothes. Knowing it for the transparent attempt at help that it was she eagerly handed it over, hoping for a quick magical solution to her problem. Instead, to her quiet disappointment, Mr Gold led her to the spinning wheel in the back room, helping her sit down on the stool beside it and taking a seat on a bench behind her.

“Spinning has always calmed me. There’s something in the rhythm of it, in the motion of the wheel and the feel of the wool on the skin.” His voice was low, like honey. “Almost hypnotic.”

He was quite adept, and Belle had to admit it was relaxing to watch him go through the motions. The wheel made a gentle, steady sound as it spun. She leaned back against the solid chest of the man behind her, thankful when he did not object. She felt him tense up slightly, his magic spiking around him, and she shivered at the sensation of it. Another type of tension grew inside her, a pulsing from below her navel that made her fidget in her seat.

“Rumple…”

She had used his real only once before, when she’d summoned him, but in the privacy of her own thoughts she’d been referring to him as such for a long time. He made a low, guttural sound behind her, hands dropping the wool and leaving the wheel to slide up her arms and down her torso, curving possessively around her swollen stomach. She felt his nose against the skin of her neck, his breath causing goosebumps where it touched her. She could tell he was holding himself back but barely, a feral, powerful creature straining against the bonds of his self-imposed restraint. His hands- green-gold and clawed, no longer human- drifted down to spread across her bare thighs, pushing the fabric of her summer dress up around her waist. He didn’t go any further, though, causing her to whimper and shift around. She reached out behind her to grab a fistful of his hair, noticing it curled, no longer straight.

“You… you promised…”

He hadn’t exactly, but it was a way to let him know she was more than okay with it, if he was. Belatedly, as he felt his fingers dip inside her underwear, she recalled the greedy looks she had seen him give her and wondered for the first time if she had misinterpreted them. But just as she felt as if she was about to come to some sort of monumental realisation she felt his fingers inside her, and his other hand cupping her breast. The scent of magic grew strong in the air as she rocked against him, feeling him hard and warm behind her, power made flesh and completely devoted to her needs. Time stretched and contracted as they moved together until with a sharp spark deep inside her cunt she felt the tension explode inside her, making her toes curl and her spine tingle. He followed her a second later with a cry he muffled against her hair, murmuring something in a language she could not understand. She brushed aside all worries about what would come next, with the birth of her child and therefore the end of their first deal, so nearby. If she could have nothing more, she would at least have this.

For all the magic that had been involved in Gideon’s conception and her subsequent pregnancy, the delivery was as normal as it could be. Her little boy was born after four and a half hours of delivery, looking perfect, specially once the swelling and the redness went down. He was resting peacefully in her arms when Mr Gold showed up, dapper in his three-piece suit and his long coat, a hint of gold about his eyes and the smell of magic around him. Belle cuddled Gideon closer, happy to detect, behind the smell of baby powder, the same scent about him.

“Do you wish to meet him, Rumple?”

It was a bit awkward to treat him in such a familiar manner after what it had happened, but with her son in her arms she felt particularly brave and unwilling to let things become stilted and stiff between them. He approached her cautiously, his face soft and open when he saw the child. It was then that Belle knew she’d done everything right and that he was there to claim the child as partly his. She looked down at the babe, noticing the unnatural shade of blue of his eyes and the very slight golden shimmer of his skin, and smiled in relief.

“He looks just like you, don’t you think?”

There was no mistaking the child’s origins, not with those ears and nose. The fae came close enough to be able to see the child’s face, but no closer, nervous energy crackling around him.

“He was supposed to look like what you wished. I’m sorry.”

“And is it too hard to imagine I might have wanted him to look like you?”

The light teasing was meant to put him at ease, but it fell flat. If not for the barely-concealed look of longing on the fae’s face as he stared at the child Belle might have thought she had failed altogether in getting him to care for little Gideon.

“I mean, after all, you’re the child’s father.”

His right hand tightened painfully around the golden handle of his cane, scales rippling across the skin of his neck before disappearing.

“That’s not entirely true, is it? The deal was clear, the child is yours alone. But, perhaps… Perhaps there could be another deal. Half of the boy’s life for my own. In exchange, I’d share half of my life with you.”

It wasn’t exactly the deal she had anticipated, so it took her a moment to make out exactly what he meant.

“But… you live forever. What exactly are you proposing?”

He took a step closer, and another, till he was within reach. Yet he made no motion to touch the child or herself, though he looked very much like he wanted to do both.

“I’ll share my lifespan with you, Miss French, if you share the child’s life with me. It’d mean moving to my house, so we could build a… a home, so we could both share Gideon’s life. It’d be forever, so you best be sure.”

There was a lot he wasn’t saying. About them, about what he expected and hoped for when he talked of home and of sharing a life. But the look on his face made it abundantly clear. She felt her eyes begin to water and feared for a second that he would misunderstand, so she smiled widely, taking a shuddering breath to steady herself.

“It’s a deal.”

#rumbelle christmas in july #Rumbelle Christmas in July 2019 #Iatethebiscuit #rumbelle fic #Thestraggletag fanfiction #rumbelle

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pamphletstoinspire · 5 years

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The Spiritual Battle: How Satan Tempts Us And What We Can Do To Resist

St. Peter, in his first encyclical letter, says, “Be sober, be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour (1 Pt 5:8).”

From the beginning, the Apostle knew well that the Enemy was on the prowl and ready to construct our demise. He had none of our modern notions that Satan is a myth. One of the greatest goals of the Devil is that we will ignore him or think that he does not exist.

Instead, let us be watchful.

“Wherever God erects a house of prayer,

The Devil always builds a chapel there:

And ‘twill be found, upon examination,

The latter has the largest congregation.”

– Daniel Dafoe (The True-Born Englishman)

This is a fascinating insight into the Devil’s playbook. He is an author of lies and subtle manipulator. He does not convince a person to fall from grace all at once. He cunningly draws a person further and further from God, one step at a time. There are even those who believe that they are serving God, but are truly serving several gods.

Satan waits right at the edge of our consciousness and watches for any sign of weakness. He is prowling at the fence looking for any breaks in the chains. He sits at the door of our churches, sometimes daring to even come into the narthex or entrance way.

How many times have you engaged in gossip or slander right after celebrating Mass? Those who are closest to God have the farthest to fall, but we are also called to be the readiest with our weapons.

HOW SATAN TEMPTS US

Satan likes to tempt us with money, fame, sex, power, and the appearance of freedom. He fashions these into idols and beckons us slowly and subtly to worship them instead of the one good God. Sometimes, he accomplishes this with a whisper or a suggestion to shirk responsibility or to skip prayer. We must be watchful for the moves of the enemy.

In his master epistolary novel, The Screwtape Letters, Christian writer and apologist C.S. Lewis explains some of the ways that Satan tempts us. The following are summaries of some key points.

In these letters, the chief demon Screwtape is instructing the young apprentice demon Wormwood. So, the formulations will seem backward; this is part of the brilliance of Lewis’ writing because we get an insight into how the demons plot our demise.

1. The demonic forces will try to convince us to “estimate the value of prayer by [our] success in producing the desired feeling (21).” However, feelings are usually products only of whether we are feeling well, are well rested, and so forth at a given moment.

2. They will attack our anxiety. “There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human’s mind against the Enemy. He wants men to be concerned with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them (28).”

3. They will immobilize us in our feelings about a situation. “The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able ever to act, and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel (61).”

4. They will keep us fixed on the future rather than the present moment. “It is far better to make them live in the Future…it is unknown to them, so that making them think about it we make them think of unrealities… it is the most completely temporal part of time- for the Past is frozen and no longer flows, and the Present is all lit up with eternal rays (68).”

5. They will make Jesus seem far away. Remember, in this writing, the “Enemy” of Screwtape is our Lord. “For the presence of the Enemy, otherwise experienced by men in prayer and sacrament, we substitute a merely probable, remote, shadowy, and uncouth figure, one who spoke a strange language and died a long time ago. Such an object cannot, in fact, be worshipped (107).”

6. They will have us further our pet causes first rather than seek Christ first. We are a Church of Christ, not a church of causes. “The thing to do is to get a man at first to value social justice as a thing which the Enemy demands, and then work him on to the stage at which he values Christianity because it may produce social justice. For the Enemy will not be used as a convenience (108-9).”

7. They will tempt us to only attempt virtue until it gets difficult. “A chastity or honesty or mercy which yields to danger will be chaste or honest or merciful only on conditions. Pilate was merciful till it became risky (137-8).”

These Are The Seven Principles of Spiritual Warfare

THE RESISTANCE

How then can we resist the inclinations of the Devil and our own selfishness?

The only answer is Jesus. “Without Me you can do nothing (Jn 15:5).”

One very helpful text to read on resisting Satan is Spiritual Combat by Fr. Lorenzo Scupoli. This is a classic book that has stood the test of time.

Fr. Scupoli reminds us that we must not trust ourselves, rather we should trust in Christ. He says, “So for the duration of our life, every day and at every moment, we must keep unchanged in our heart the feeling, conviction and disposition, that on no occasion can we allow ourselves to think of relying on ourselves and trusting ourselves.”

We must also be wary of our own response to idleness, gossip, greed, lust, pride, and all the other temptations in our lives within our hearts and in the world around us. We must be aware of our surroundings.

We must be wary of the company that we keep. If we surround ourselves with people who do not prioritize Christ then our own priorities will suffer. Or worse, we will slip into the vices and bad habits that they embody.

THE OFFENSIVE

Besides being resistant, we must also be proactive in our spiritual struggle. We must especially be diligent in prayer. If we are not in a habit of prayer, it is a good idea to carve out some time for prayer and make it a habit. The more time we spend with Jesus, the more we become like Jesus.

The most important thing that we can do is live a sacramental life, especially the Holy Eucharist and the Sacrament of Penance.

“Our Lord Christ Himself strikes down our enemies through us, or in company with us. For he who eats Christ’s flesh and drinks His blood abides with Christ and He in him. Therefore, when we overcome the enemies, it is the blood of Christ which overcomes, as it is written in Revelation: ‘and they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb.'” – Fr. Scupoli

The Eucharist is the Sacrament of Sacraments and it is the Body and Blood of the Lord. By receiving the Eucharist worthily, we are coming into communion with the resurrected and glorified Christ.

A beautiful sacrament which flows from the cleansing power of the Eucharist is the Sacrament of Penance. By making a habit of going to this Sacrament, we come into communion with the Cross of Christ. Our sins and offenses are brought to the foot of the Christ, with the knowledge that Christ already died for the forgiveness of our sins.

Satan wants us to stay away from the Sacraments. We must do everything in our power to live a sacramental life and trust in Jesus. This is the greatest offense against the Enemy.

THE HOLY FAMILY

The Holy Family is powerful against the demonic. Our Blessed Mother is foretold by God in Genesis 3 as stepping on the head of the serpent, alongside her Son. She walked with Jesus to Calvary and a sword passed through her soul as she watched in agony as her beloved Son was nailed to the Cross and raised high. All of the graces which Christ merited to the world have been entrusted to our Blessed Mother who dispenses them by the power of the Holy Spirit. She is a powerful ally and intercessor.

St. Joseph is called the “Terror of Demons.” He is the Protector of the Church, the Patron of a Good Death, the earthly protector of Jesus, and a man of righteousness and purity. May we imitate his example and ask for his powerful intercession. “The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective (Js 5:16).”

One of the monikers of Mary is “Our Lady, Help of Exorcists, Terror of Demons.” She is the most powerful woman in the history of the world. Completely free from sin, she accepted the words of the angel in faith and furnished the human body of Jesus. She is the mold from which Christ came and we must allow her to mold us more into the image of her Son.

One of the most powerful weapons against Satan that we have is the Most Holy Rosary. Padre Pio simply referred to it as “the Weapon.” In it, we dwell on the Mysteries of Christ and cling to Our Lady who is the health of the sick, refuge of sinners, and comfortess of the afflicted.

SAINT MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL Prayer

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

#the spiritual battle

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

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Wakanda Got Y’all Pt. 3

[Black Panther x Insecure Mashup]

Word Count: 2.5K

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: I think I got one more chapter in me to close this little series out! So enjoy this and the finale coming soon!

Issa and T’Challa met at the community center to begin their work with the neighborhood. Today, with Issa’s help, they would start the recruitment process for their after-school program. They unloaded boxes with brochures and fliers and applications onto their tables.

“You think you got enough to go around?” Issa asked jokingly at the pile of papers in front of them.

T’Challa looked around slightly panicked, “Oh, do you think we may need more? I could call up Nakia to go by the office-”

Issa waved her hands, “No, no! I was kidding. We probably have too many honestly. People don’t usually show up to these things until school actually starts, you know, typical students.”

T’Challa clicks his tongue, “Well, if we get one, it would be an accomplishment.”

They take their seats at the table to wait for their future members. The outside of the building was lined with signs and balloons announcing their grand opening, but as time passes, Issa began to wonder if she this was a waste of time.

She pulls out her phone to look through her socials but sees a notification for a new text from Molly. She is supposed to be seeing Erik tonight.

M: What do smart thug niggas look for in their girl? Should I be professional lookin or a little thotty?

I: Uhh, I don’t think he would turn away thotty at all. How much do you want from him?

M: You think I’m getting money from this nigga?

I: No! Like are you wanting to DTR or DTF?

M: Girrrrl, ain’t nobody tryna get in their feelings over here. I could smell his intentions a mile away, it’s just a matter hosing down my garden.

Issa snorts, causing T’Challa to look at her confused. “It’s just my friend…” Issa says trailing off. I: So our pussies require lawn work now?

M: Shieet, I already got my trim, bedazzled the shit, now all it needs is moisture!

I: Ok, I’m gonna throw up. Peace.

“Is your friend the one from the bar?” T”Challa asked.

“Oh, yeah, you seen her. Molly. Your cousin is supposed to be taking her out or something.”

T’Challa makes a noise. “What?” Issa asks.

“Ahh, it’s nothing. Just...Erik is pretty known to be a ladies man, practically prides himself on it.”

Issa shrugs, “Oh she could tell that! She has her list of guys too. I mean, you know, she ain’t a hoe or nothing but, she’s a lawyer so she won’t be worked around I’m sure.”

T’Challa nods, “Good, sounds like they’ll have a good time. Thank you again for welcoming us into your program. I am glad that we can guarantee your roster of students as an option to take advantage of our amenities.”

“No problem, T’Challa! It’ll be good for them to get a change of environment from what they are used to.”

A mother and two girls walk into the center.

Issa greets them happily. “Hi! Thanks for coming! What brings you here to see us?”

The mother plops down in a chair in front of them, looking exhausted. “Yeah, what’s your hours for the after school stuff?”

T’Challa hands a brochure to her, “From 4-7pm. Are these your daughters?”

The mother takes the brochure to fan with, “One is mine, the other is my niece.”

They both talk to each other in low voices and cackle.

T’Challa asks, “How old are you all?”

“I’m this many.” one with afro puffs holds her hand out, fingers balled together.

T’Challa looks at her hand intently, “I don’t understand…”

Issa sees it and instantly rolls her eyes, “Come on, y’all.”

“GOTTI!” the girls exclaim, high fiving each other.

Issa turns a smile back on, turning to them, “What grades are you all in?”

Afro puffs crosses her arms, “I’m in 7th.”

One with a struggle ponytail says, “I’m going into eighth.”

T’Challa asks, “What are your favorite subjects?”

Afro puffs looks T’Challa up and down, “Sex ed.”

T’Challa looks at her horrified. “Uh…”

The mother/aunt pops her. “Girl, shut yo ass up! Quit being rude! Sorry, she got her mama’s fast ways.”

“Oh, so she is your niece?” Issa asks.

She looks at Issa like she is crazy, “No, that’s my daughter.”

Issa shakes her head shooketh as T’Challa cuts in, “Well, we don’t offer that right now…”

“...or ever.” Issa adds.

T’Challa clear his throat, “Right, but we specialize in the sciences, math, history…”

Struggle pony asks, “What kind of history do you teach? I don’t know nothin bout Africa.”

T’Challa chuckles, “No, we would stick with American, but we do have African american studies tutor if you need that.”

Afro puffs simulates a hair flip. “I’m plenty Black, Prince Joffer. But history might not be on your side.”

Issa whispers, “What do you know about ‘Coming to America’?”

“You’re talking too much, little girl.” The mother/aunt cuts in on afro puffs.

T’Challa questions, “What do you mean, little miss?”

“You shoulda came here when Obama was President man, getcho citizenship.”

Struggle pony adds, “Mhm, this is Trump’s America now. No matter your papers, you gettin kicked out.”

“AND you Black? Pssh, if the police don’t get you first, you’d be lucky.”

Issa butts in once more, “Well you girls really know your stuff on current events, so you probably won’t need anything but proofreading your reports.”

“You sayin my babies can’t read?” the mother/aunt asks offended.

Issa stammers with anxiety. This was not a smooth start. “No, not at all, but everyone could use some editing help for grammar and punctuation on papers-”

“Uh huh, come on. I don’t know what someone who’s first language isn’t english can teach my kids.”

“English was my sixth language, to be specific.” T’Challa adds for shade.

“Well, whatever the hell! I don’t get why some African had to come in to help a community he ain’t knowin shit about!” She turns on her hills walking out.

“Bye Mr. Joffer!” Struggle pony exclaims flirtily.

“Niggatrynafucksayswhat?” Afro puffs says while backing away.

T’Challa looks at her leaning his ear, “I’m sorry, wha-”

Issa slaps her hand over T’Challa’s mouth, “Have a good day girls!”

Taking your hand away, T’Challa wipes his mouth, “What was that for?”

Issa sighs. The best and brightest really came to show out for you all “Listen, these kids will play some weird ass tricks on you, because of fun. Torture is their pastime, right? So you have got to stay more alert and less trusting with their ways, T’Challa.”

He nods, “I have a jokester for a sister so I understand young people and their games. But I couldn’t grasp what they were even talking about.”

“Welcome to being an elder millennial! These gen Z kids are going to burn the world to the ground, I swear.”

You and T’Challa had sat there for a couple more hours and saw a handful of less colorful folk. It was finally time to break things down.

T’Challa helped Issa with the table. “So, what got you into this kind of work?”

“Well, although I don’t make much, I needed the paycheck after college and it was open and hiring at the time.”

T’Challa nods, “Nothing wrong with that for a start.”

“But I also wanted to help people too. I think I found that out as I got into it. These kids are crazy a lot of the time. Disrespectful, ignorant, smelly-”

“But?” T’Challa asks with a smile to move you along.

“Right! BUT, they are basically all me. No one cared about kids from my side of town. We didn’t get great field trips or outstanding class options. I remember every time we had a debate team or math league enter a tournament, we could never get further than the first round because culture shock! Their schools were bigger with vending machine that had school supplies and full sandwiches, we didn’t know how to act! So, I just hope that our program can expose them to the best, so they can work to build that and maintain it for themselves.”

T’Challa looked at Issa in awe, “That is a beautiful sentiment, Issa. Very well put. I knew we had a good thing going when I met you.”

Issa smiled, “Yeah? Me?”

T’Challa nodded, “Of course! You have been nothing but professional, and getting to know you more in your element leaves me quite starstruck.”

Issa felt light with his compliments, so genuine. “That is possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, especially on the job.”

T’Challa laughs, “You deserve it and more. Are you through for the day after this?”

Issa thought to herself, “Uh, yeah, I think so. Probably just goin to do some chores or whatever.” Issa know she didn’t wanna clean.

“Maybe we should catch a movie or something? Blow off some steam for a job well done.”

Issa said excitedly, “That sounds great!” Issa hoped this was a step closer to getting with him. He was so fine and nice, no way she would fuck this up.

Molly sat in a booth at the Waffle House with Erik, kekeing the night away. Erik told her all kinds of stuff about his college years and time in the military. She learned he was even an amateur pilot in his spare time.

“I need to take you around sometime.” Erik said after snapping into a sausage link.

Molly screwed her face up, uh uh. Those are the planes you always here engulfing in flames and crashing, an engine breaking down and crashing, the pilot was high and crashed it-”

Erik laughs, “Well you ain’t gotta worry about alladat, ma. I’m good, just gotta put a little trust in me….like I’m tryna put a little trust in you…”

“Tsk, is your dick named Trust?” Molly inquired.

Erik paused, “Nah, but my tongue never lies.” He says with a wink.

“Ok, nigga! You swear!” Molly joshed him but loved every minute of it. Even though they were in a regular degular spot, she loved it. It felt like college again and you got the finest Alpha in line to ask you out.

The bell at the front door rings as it opens. You hear a loud familiar cackle.

“Kellie? What the hell you doin here, girl?” Molly asks surprised.

Kellie walks in under the arm of M’Baku with a slight limp. “Ooh, hey girl. Can we pop a squat with you all a sec?”

Molly nods as Erik greets them. “Wassup, Bak? You and ol’ girl still hanging?”

M’Baku beams as he holds Kellie’s hand. “Yes, very much so.”

Molly leans over Kellie, “Whatchu got a limp for, girl? You fall or sumthin?”

Kellie nods sticking out her lip pitifully, “Mhm, you ever try to come off the dick too fast, before you figure out your hip flexors ain’t quite relaxed yet? Yeah, I pulled somethin girl, talk about cow tippin!!” Kellie cackled, tongue all out. M’Baku was very entertained by his woman’s antics, elbowing an annoyed Erik.

”Moooo, bitch, get out my hay! Get out my hay bitch, get out my hay!”

Molly chuckled at her friend as the waiter came by for their orders.

“So Erik, what are your intentions for my friend here? I see you have expensive taste, I don’t want her to feel too spoiled now.” Kellie says smiling into her water cup.

Erik shakes his head, “Nah, I do this as a test. You don’t rock with the House, you don’t rock with me.”

“Hell, do the House rock for us? Wasn’t we supposed to be boycottin them or somethin?” Kellie asked.

“Yeah, but I mean, the cheap prices are kinda like reparations, so we’ll let it rock for now.” Erik adds.

Kellie and M’Baku’s food arrive. M’Baku takes a sausage and holds it up. Kellie freezes in place.

“Are you hungry?” M’Baku asks in a deep tone.

“No...but I could eat.” Kellie asks seductively.

“You know the rule: closed mouths don’t get fed.” M’Baku licks his lips sinisterly.

Kellie scoffs, “Since when am I keeping my mouth closed. Gimme that damn meat, Baku!”

M’Baku clicks his tongue, “Is that how we ask?”

Kellie tucks her chin into her chest, “No...I’m bein bad.”

“And I know you are a good girl, aren’t you?”

Kellie nods.

Molly and Erik are looking at them with horrified expressions. “Kellie, what the hell-”

“Open up for me.” M’Baku demands, Kellie obliges. “Wider.” Kellie follows. “You know this meat is plentiful, make room for it.” Kellie stretches her mouth to its widest.

“Nigga! Give her the damn food before I fuckin lose what I paid for all over this damn table! Nasty asses.” Erik exclaims.

M’Baku finally feeds Kellie who chews on it happily as they giggle in each other’s faces. M’Baku inhales sharply all of a sudden, “Yes, you are a good girl, always a people pleaser.”

“What can I say? My man wants what he wants!”

M’Baku bites his lip gripping the table as he growls under his breath looking at Kellie as she licks her lips. Erik shakes his head, giving Molly the signal as he lays cash out on the table.

“Ok y’all, we gotta go. Let us through.”

“Oh, hell naw, Molly.” M’Baku grunts.

“Come on, Bak! We gotta go!” Erik says pushing him.

“Don’t touch me right now, I’m close.”

“Dafuq you mean??” Erik’s voice raises an octave.

Kellie taps Molly to say, “Girl, climb the booth. This ain’t goin nowhere.”

Molly rolls her eyes as she gets up to straddle the back of the booth. Erik follows behind.

Molly looks back to say goodbye and finds the culprit of their problem: Kellie was footing M’Baku’s crotch under the table.

“Woooow, my boy a real freak huh?” Erik laughs out loud as they walk out.

“That’s your boy alright.” Molly says shaking the image from her head.

Erik beeps his car to unlock, “Let’s get you home, ma. I know you busy and shit.”

Molly sucks her teeth as she gets in, “I ain’t that busy. It’s a weekend after all.”

Erik starts the car up, “Lawyers get days off? You sure you ain’t slackin?”

“Boy! Ain’t nuthin slack about me! Whatchu talkin bout! I’m tight son!” Molly says with a B-boy pose.

Erik shakes his head laughing, “You brazy girl.”

Pulling up to Molly’s spot, Erik turns off the engine. “Why you turning the car off?”

Erik has his car keys in hand, getting out, “I gotta walk you to your door.”

Molly looks after him suspiciously before getting out.

As they walk to her door, Molly says, “Ok, this is me right here.”

Erik puts his hands in his pockets biting his lip, “Ok, no doubt.”

Molly stands there looking around nervously. “Isn’t this it? You go back to your car.”

“Pssh, come on, I know you been eyein my mouth since you met me, so I’m just giving you the option.” Erik says all cocky.

“Nigga, what have you done for me to warrant a kiss?” Molly asks defiantly.

“We just got back from Waffle! Plus I got you the fresh squeezed orange juice!”

“Please, buying me a drink ain’t appeasing, believe me! And they lied to you, shit was Sunny D.”

Erik cursed under his breath, “Ok, well, what about, I had a damn good time with you and it would be dope of you felt the same way.”

Molly thought on it. She did have a real good time today with him and the night was still young.

She sighed heavily getting her keys out, “You can come in, but for a quick minute! Just to wind down, but you out after that!”

Erik smiled big, golds glimmering, “That’s all I need, ma.”

Part 4

RagTag

@hbicprettyprincess @kimianostalgia@afraiddreamingandloving @chaneajoyyy@myfavemarvelfanfics @nys30

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#SundaySweat

#insecure #black panther x insecure #insecure fanfic #black panther au #black panther fanfic #fanfic #shakafic

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cryptid-jack · 6 years

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Court of Bones

Chapter Rating: SFW Word Count: 2,310 Story Summary: Getting married to a king you’ve never met for the sake of bringing about lasting peace between your two countries is hard enough without the fact that he’s not even human. Finding out that your new husband is also a seven and a half foot tall skeleton is something you’re not sure you’re ready to contend with. Will you ever be able to find happiness in your new home, let alone love with your equally new husband?

< Back to chapter 3

Chapter Four

After your first few days in your new home, you had reached out to the castle steward and requested a tutor to catch you up on Wyvernwald’s history, culture, and current political climate. You hadn’t been in the country long before realizing that your education regarding all these things had been… somewhat biased. Considering how everyone you’ve met has been at the very least polite, if not outright kind, you dread offending someone with casual ignorance on your part.

Plus, you really do want to be of more use to the country that you are now queen of as more than a provider of heirs. This has always been your intent, even before you knew who your husband was to be, and you see no reason why that should change now.

Still, as you make your way back to your chambers, you do find yourself wishing you weren’t to start your lessons today of all days. After your conversation with Ghalig at the breakfast table, you feel scattered and vaguely nervous in anticipation of the evening. On the other hand, at least you’ll have something to distract yourself with so the hours pass more quickly until the agreed time.

Your tutor, much to your surprise, proves to be a fairy woman no taller than your hip with glittering, gossamer wings that immediately put you in mind of diamonds. For all that she is the size of a child, however, Daelari is very much an adult with no patience at all for neglectful students. Any worry you’d had about your mind drifting goes immediately out the window as your new teacher quickly commands your attention and proves quite adept at holding it.

As you feared, your education on Wyvish culture and history is even more biased than you’d thought, so after the first few horrified looks your teacher gave you when you answered a question, you both came to the mutual decision that she should simply lecture while you listened attentively and took notes. Luckily, the fairy accepted your profuse apologies without seeming to hold your ignorance against you, but you’re still left wondering that you never considered how wrong your own teachers might have been back home.

Luckily, Daelari has a knack for making even the dullest history lesson interesting, so the day practically flies by with only a short break for lunch. Before you know it, it’s time for dinner, and you’re shocked to see how dark it is outside the window when your tutor calls it a day and suggests you both get something to eat.

“Thank you so much again for putting up with me,” you say as you walk the fairy to your chamber door once Liandra appears, clearly ready to help you change for dinner.

The fairy hovering along at your side gives you a hard to interpret smile before saying, “Not at all, Your Majesty, it’s my pleasure.” She hesitates a moment as you pull open the door for her, then continues, “It’s good to see you taking an interest.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, but luckily, Daelari doesn’t wait for an answer, simply drops a curtsy then flits out the door, leaving you alone with your servant who hurries you back into the bedroom to change.

Ghalig doesn’t make an appearance at dinner, unfortunately, but you’re not terribly surprised. All you can do is hope that he remembers your appointment, and that he’s only skipping dinner in anticipation of that meeting.

Back in your (his) chambers, you send a servant for tea, and after it arrives, force yourself to sit on the settee to keep from pacing nervously around the room. You’re in the middle of pouring yourself a cup when the door opens and Ghalig enters, nearly making you slosh the hot drink in your surprise.

“Ghalig!” you exclaim and move to stand and greet him properly, but he waves for you to remain seated, so you do. “Good evening,” you continue after putting the teapot back down on the tray before you can burn yourself.

Feeling unaccountably shy, you look up at your husband as he towers just inside the door and get a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark green brocade jacket with black pants and leather boots, and a matching belt around his waist. The look is simple but refined, and once again you find yourself approving of Wyvish fashion. The more tailored look is definitely superior to the simpler tunics Norlandic men tend to favor, at least in your mind.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he finally stops hovering in the doorway and crosses the room towards you.

“You’re right on time, actually,” you reassure him with a smile. “Tea only just arrived; would you like some?” Recalling that he hadn’t been at dinner, you ask, “Or did you want to send for some proper food?”

“No,” he answers quickly and takes a seat on the other end of the settee from you. “I ate over paperwork,” he muses wryly at his own habits, then says, “Tea sounds excellent, though.”

Without thinking, you move to reach for the teapot, intending to pour for him, only to find that he has reached for it as well. Your fingers brush his and you both pull back sharply at the contact and laugh nervously. It’s ridiculous, you know, but somehow the brief contact makes your heart feel like it’s about to leap out of your chest.

“I can-” he begins.

“No, please, allow me,” you say, cheeks flushed red as you reach out again and take charge of the teapot and pour him a cup while he watches. You’re inordinately pleased when your hands prove steady and you don’t spill a drop. You do, however, allow Ghalig to add his own cream and sugar since you’re unfamiliar with how much he takes.

“Thank you,” he says, and you wonder if he would be blushing too if he had the skin to pull it off. You think he would be if the way his gaze keeps darting to and from your own is any indication.

Somehow, that makes you feel a little more at ease as you sit back and sip your tea.

You’re still relieved when Ghalig breaks the silence first, though, and asks, “How was your day?”

A simple, even mundane question, but you’re glad for it. It’s easy, and you need easy right now, apparently.

“Quite educational, actually,” you admit with a little smile over the rim of your cup. He crooks a brow in silent question, clearly not having anticipated such an answer, so you continue, “Just the other day, before you returned, I inquired with the steward about procuring a tutor for myself.”

“Oh?” Ghaligh asks curiously, head canted slightly to one side as he considers what you would need one for.

He doesn’t seem to come up with anything, though, so you spare him the guessing and say, “I… well, after my first few days here it occurred to me that my education on all things Wyvish might have been a little… biased. My teachers were, in any case,” you admit with an embarrassed grimace.

“Oh,” he says, then with more emphasis as the full import of your words registers, he repeats, “Oh. Yes, I… well, it’s not surprising, I suppose.” He’s quiet for a moment, a frown crossing his angular features as he remarks aloud, “Though now I wonder if maybe my own education hasn’t suffered similarly.”

You smile and suggest, “Shall we make a game of it?”

He laughs. “What? See whose education was more xenophobic? That’s awfully grim.”

“Sometimes, when you realize something awful, all you can do is laugh and learn from it,” you point out with a helpless shrug.

Ghalig seems intrigued by the suggestion, and after a moment he flashes you a smile and says, “Alright, you’re on.”

The ‘game’ is an utter mess, and it’s a good thing that both of you resolved to laugh at the horrors, because it turns out that you’re not the only one who wholeheartedly believed more than one cruel untruth about the people you now rule over. Ghalig’s understanding of day-to-day life in Norland is certainly negatively slanted, and if it weren’t for your own misconceptions, you might have been offended.

Still, it helps the evening pass and gives you new insight into your husband. He has a sharp wit, but a kind heart, and a low, rolling laugh that makes your heart flutter alarmingly in your chest.

Over the next week, as your daytime lessons with Daelari continue, so too do your evening conversations with Ghalig. After that first night and a half you leave your ‘game’ behind and move on to other lines of conversation that allow you an insight into one another that brings you closer by degrees.

You learn that he’s not fond of the cold, despite his relative immunity to all but the most intense temperatures. Both of you love to ride horseback, and you’re elated when he promises to take you one day soon when the weather is more amenable. Ghalig is delighted to learn that you’re a more than competent archer; the only weapon your father had let you learn while your brothers had gone through their training after you swore you’d scream and never stop if he didn’t allow it. You had been tired of being denied the things your brothers were handed, and really had screamed yourself hoarse. The ensuing wheezing had so distressed your nursemaid and the other servants that your father had finally relented.

On learning this fact, Ghalig laughs so hard you suspect he’d be crying if he had the tear ducts for it, and the reaction makes you grin from ear to ear, pleased.

The discovery that you both lost your mothers at a young age brings you closer yet, and on night five you turn and find yourself nose to nose with Ghalig. The sudden nearness of him startles you, but as you glance up at him uncertainly, all you can think of is what it might feel like to kiss him. For a moment he seems to waver, and you wonder if you’re about to find out… but then he pulls away and starts into a story about the time his mother had convinced him babies came from cabbages. Apparently he’d spent hours tending and watering the cabbages in the castle greenhouse in hopes of growing a little sister after that.

She’d been a great one for pranks, his mother.

By the end of night seven you’re practically dying to kiss him, and it hits you how absurd it is that you’ve never even kissed your own husband. Ghalig seems to keep coming so close to finally making the first move and closing that distance between you, but never quite manages. So, that night when he leaves after another near-miss at the door, your frustration peaks and you resolve to take matters into your own hands.

You then proceed to chicken out on night eight and things go on as normal.

Night nine, however, you muster every bit of your courage and instruct Liandra to dress you in one of your finer gowns for dinner that evening. Luckily, there are a few visiting dignitaries dining with you, so the shift in attire won’t raise any eyebrows.

Once your handmaiden finishes squeezing you into the thing, you turn and look at yourself in the mirror. What you see there immediately makes you flush with embarrassment, though you also can’t help but feel a little smug as well. The gown is all in peacock blues and greens with an empire waist and a rich flowing skirt that hints at the curve of your hips and legs when you walk. The sleeves are long and trailing, but it’s the daringly low cut of the bodice that immediately catches the eye, lifting and accentuating your natural endowments. The addition of a simple, but glittering pendant that falls just between the swell of your breasts really caps off the whole look, and you know that if this doesn’t work, nothing will.

Well, this and your gambit for once you’ve got Ghalig alone this evening.

Over your shoulder in the mirror, you and Liandra share a smile.

You find Ghalig waiting for you outside the main door to the great hall so you can proceed in together, and his reaction on seeing you is everything you could have wished for. A small, strangled noise escapes him before he manages to disguise it by clearing his throat while you put on your best, most innocent smile.

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” you ask as you reach his side and turn your gaze up to meet his.

As you’d known it would, your husband’s height grants him a perfect view of your cleavage, though you can’t help but notice the way his eye lights trace the shift of your skirts around your hips as you walk, too.

For a moment, the skeleton simply stares, then gives a start as he realizes he’s been blatantly ogling you. Ghalig pointedly averts his gaze then offers you his arm and says, “Uh, no. Not at all.”

You take it, barely managing to suppress another smug smile, and allow your fingers to gently squeeze his arm, then brush along the length of his sleeve. He adjusts its angle for your comfort, allowing you to feel the shift of bone beneath your palm as he does. You smile up at him from under your lashes and say, “Oh, good. Shall we go then?”

He’s staring at you again, expression difficult to read, but after a moment he nods and motions to the servants who are both pointedly looking anywhere but at their monarchs. They open the doors, and you go in to dinner.

[ On to Chapter Five > ]

((Author’s Note: Thanks so much for reading everyone! Thanks especially to everyone that reblogged and/or left a comment last time too! You guys are awesome and really make my day! Let me know what your favorite part of this chapter was in a comment/ask/reblog too, I love reading them!

Next chapter (ch 5) is the ‘final‘ chapter, by the way (and includes NSFW content, so be warned)! I have more planned of course, but it’ll be a bit, and I might actually do some writing on a different reader/monster couple before coming back to Ghalig and his Queen just for a little variety. Gotta update a fanfic or two first, though >o> ;; ))

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dailyaudiobible · 5 years

Text

09/10/2019 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 6:1-7:25, 2 Corinthians 11:16-33, Psalms 54:1-7, Proverbs 23:1-3

Today is the 10th day of September. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and it is a great day to be together around the global campfire with you. And, so, we just exhale, right? We just roll our shoulders and twist our neck just exhale. These moments here are sacred moments that we come in out of whatever is going on and we just have a safe place to be together. And, so, in my mind anyway, that's where the global campfire came from. There’s just a fire, we’re here, we’re peaceful, we have this space. Whatever is swirling around in our lives it’ll still be there, but we have this oasis to allow God's word to wash over us and into our lives. And, so, let’s just take a deep breath and let it go and take the next step forward. We’re reading this week from the English Standard Version and working our way into the book of Isaiah. Today we’ll read chapters 6 and 7.

Commentary:

Okay. There's some really, really good stuff for us in the Scriptures today, some stuff for us to really take to heart. So, there were two stories that we encountered today, one in Psalms and one in second Corinthians that both kind of boil down to the same thing and that is that life…like isn't always easy and a lot of life is spent problem-solving, right, facing opposition and resistance and enduring through it.

So, in our Psalm today, which happens to be Psalm 54, David had been running for his life from King Saul's assassins and King Saul himself, but someone had told the king where he was. So, he was in this life or death situation, everything was opposing him from basically every side, everything was a slog. He was running for his life. Everything was resistance. He was trying to stay alive, which makes his prayer pretty clear. “Come with Your great power oh God, rescue me, defend me with Your might, listen to me, pay attention to me, right? Strangers are attacking me. Violent people are trying to kill me. They don't care anything about You.” So, that makes that Psalm very clearly when we understand where it's coming from. David is not having an easy time at all.

And then in second Corinthians we start this boasting that we talked about yesterday. Paul feels like he's been undermined by people who are trying to validate themselves through association with the “super apostles”, but what they were teaching was a little bit different than what Paul was teaching. And, so, he’s in this position where, you know, there looking at Paul going, “well...these guys walked with Jesus., these are “super apostles”. So, Paul now has to validate himself. And, so, he's like, “are they Hebrews? I'm a Hebrew. Are they Israelites? I am too. Are they a descendent of Abraham? I am too. Are they a servant of Christ?” And then he’s like, “I know this sounds like I'm crazy, but I served Him more. I worked harder. I’ve been put in prison more. I’ve been whipped more. I’ve faced death, more.” Like, he's bragging about all that he's had to go through. What he is boasting about is how hard his life has been since he started following Jesus and bringing the good news, right? So, life wasn't easy for Paul and life wasn't easy for David and that is just the tip of it all, right? We have been going through the Bible together for all of these months and we see that the stories that we see in the Scriptures are full of challenges. And we have plenty of examples of people who buckled under those challenges and when resistance came, they caved. And we have many examples of people who faced resistance and challenge and endured it and grew stronger, but the common thing is they all faced challenges and hardships. So, why are we so surprised? Like, why are we so angry? Why do we get so upset when we have to face them ourselves, especially in light of the fact that Jesus told us this was can happen? Right? Remember in John, if the world hates you remember it hated me first. So, we have to face that sometimes. Resistance, challenge is normal. It's normal. It's part of life. And Jesus, and for that matter, the Bible never claimed that that it would be anything different. And, so, here's the thing. We need resistance. Like, we need challenge. It's actually a necessary part of life. It's how we learn. It's how we grow. Resistance makes us strong, right? Like, if you're hitting the gym, what are you doing? You are…you are making your body endure some sort of resistance so it can grow strong. So, the choice has always been ours. We can buckle under that. We do. We run away. We get mad. We start screaming at the sky. We start treating each other badly. Like, we buckle, or we can rise up. And the Bible shows us both of those roads. So, if you're at this place…and believe me…I have been at this place…I’ve been at this place many times…even this year where you feel like you kinda…like it’s too much, you’re gonna buckle, you’re gonna cave. You can do it. You’ve been doing it. You’ve here. Somehow you made it. So, you can do this. You can do this. And you're not alone. Everyone in the whole world faces the same kinds of oppositions and resistance. It may be that we’re enduring and its personalized into our own story, but we all face challenge. And the thing is about us, people, if you look at world history and the things that people have gone through, if you look at biblical history and look at the things that people went through, people can go through an awful lot when they believe in why they are doing it and what they're doing. And, so, that is what becomes central here for us today. We’re facing hardship. The only way is to endure. The only way forward is to endure and allow the endurance to make us lean and strong. The question simply is, “do I believe in this enough to endure it?” And, so, maybe our prayer isn’t that God will make things easier so that we can grow weak. Maybe we should ask him to teach us to endure so that we can grow strong because this is what we need. This is how we grow.

Prayer:

Father, we invite You into that. It's hard to ask You to help us grow stronger. What we really want, what be ideal for us is that we can do whatever we want, and You be the strong one, but You've invited us into a relationship, You've invited us to collaborate with You in revealing Your kingdom in this world. And, so, You need strong, mature sons and daughters and this is what we do for our own children. And, so, come Holy Spirit, help us to reinterpret some of the things that we are going through that we’ve been complaining an awful lot about because it's hard. And we complain about hard a lot. And, yet…and yet with You we can do very hard things. So, come Holy Spirit and show us what that looks like in our lives right now. What are the things that we’ve been misinterpreting, things that are actually going to make us very strong, things we need, but we’re just spending all of our energy trying to get away from them rather than simply enduring and growing strong and walking through it with You? Come Holy Spirit we pray in the mighty name of Jesus. Amen.

Song:

Easier – Manic Drive

Every single step The further I get doesn't seem to get easier It doesn't seem to get easier I'm running out of breath But You wouldn't give me strength if it's meant to get easier

If it's meant to get easier So help me I'm asking please There's gotta be another remedy I'm running out of my options I'm running out of my options so So show me how to get How to get

Stronger Stronger

Don't expect it to get easier Not until You make me stronger No it doesn't get easier So show me how to get How to get

Stronger Stronger

Don't expect it to get easier Not until You make me stronger

Makeshift happiness Mistaken being blessed with artificial exteriors Fabricated with smoke and mirrors We can never reach new heights Without obstacles to climb

No, getting there isn't effortless I'm gonna need a hand with this

So help me I'm asking please There's gotta be another remedy I'm running out of my options I'm running out of my options so So show me how to get How to get

Stronger Stronger

Don't expect it to get easier Not until You make me stronger No it doesn't get easier So show me how to get How to get

Stronger Stronger

Don't expect it to get easier Not until You make me stronger

I'm gonna break through even if it hurts Don't want no medication it just makes it worse Cause if I'm numb to the freedom I'll never come through if I'm comfortable No I'll never leave this room

No it doesn't get easier No it doesn't get easier

So show me how to get How to get

Stronger Stronger Don't expect it to get easier Not until You make me stronger

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pooma-bible · 3 years

Text

Pastor. Johnraj Lamech

💎

Greetings in the matchless Name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Topic: A Worldwide Ministry (Part 4) – Gaining A Worldwide Vision!

Rhema Word: Acts 11:17-18 (MSG) “If God gave the same exact gift to them as to us when we believed in the Master Jesus Christ, how could I object to God?” Hearing it all laid out like that, they quieted down. And then, as it sank in, they started praising God. “It’s really happened! God has broken through to the other nations, opened them up to Life!”

Let’s pray. Our Gracious Loving Father, thank You for giving us an opportunity to meditate Your Word today along with Your children who have been called to live a holy life Father. I commit everyone who are all meditating this message into Your mighty hand Father. Bless them and give them the oneness of Spirit and make their heart as a good land to receive each and every Word which is living and active Father. Thank You Holy Spirit for helping us to understand the in-depth treasure of Your Word and helping us to live a life as per Your Word Lord. We give all the Glory and Honour to You only Father. We pray in the mighty Name of Your beloved Son Jesus Christ. Amen.

Sometimes God surprises us as He surprised Peter by saving people even before we finish our sermon and give an invitation! And the people He saves aren’t the kind of folks we would think He would save! We need to allow God’s Word to confront our wrong thinking so that we can grow in Christ and be more usable in His purpose.

If Peter had stuck to his protest, “By no means, Lord,” God couldn’t have used him to preach to Cornelius’ household. If we want God to use us in His great purpose of being glorified through the salvation of the nations, we must let Him change us.

Peter didn’t start out his prayer time thinking that he needed to come up with a creative new ministry idea. Rather, God sovereignly intervened with His ideas and His agenda! And God’s agenda shocked Peter, as seen by his startled reply, “By no means, Lord!” It was the Lord’s whack on the side of Peter’s head!

The Lord often has to whack us to get us to change. If we’re comfortable, we don’t feel any need to change. But if we’re suddenly hit with a new situation that’s outside our comfort zone, we realize that our old ways of thinking won’t do. We have to listen to the Lord and trust Him to do something we can’t do in our own strength.

Yes, what happened in this passage in Acts 11:1-18 is of critical importance to church history. Let us try to understand the following today with the help of Holy Spirit:

1] The Church’s early Vision : A Narrow & Traditional Vision:

2] God’s Will for the Church’s Vision: A Worldwide Mission:

3] The Church’s Response to God’s Will: The Conviction of A Worldwide Mission:

1] The Church’s early Vision : A Narrow & Traditional Vision:

The Bible says in Acts 11:1-3 “The apostles and the believers throughout Judea heard that the Gentiles also had received the word of God. So, when Peter went up to Jerusalem, the circumcised believers criticized him and said, “You went into the house of uncircumcised men and ate with them.”

Yes, the church’s early vision was narrow and traditional. Here, note two critical points:

(i) The apostles and brothers, that is, the whole church, heard about Peter’s preaching mission to the Gentiles and about their having received “the Word of God”. The news was bound to travel fast, for it was unheard of that a Jew would fellowship and eat with an idolatrous Gentile. And on top it off, Peter had baptized the Gentiles without first requiring them to be circumcised.

Remember: most of them, if not all the believers at Jerusalem, were Jews. They were circumcised as small children and had been committed to the law of Moses since childhood. When they accepted Christ, they did not forsake their Judaistic religion. They saw Christianity as an extension of Judaism. In their minds Christ had only added new teachings to their existing law and religion. Therefore, if a person wished to accept Christ, he had to become a Jew first (a) to be circumcised, (b) to commit himself to the law of Moses and (c) to observe all the ceremonies and rituals of Judaism.

Once a person had done these things, that is, become a Jew, then and only then could he receive Christ and be baptized. Then and only then could he be accepted into the church. Peter had gone contrary to these beliefs and practices:

Yes, Gentiles received the Word of God without circumcising them (Acts 11:1)

Yes, the law of Moses was broken by going “into the house of uncircumcised men (Gentiles) and ate with them (Acts 11:3).

The news was bound to travel fast. The early believers, who were still loyal to their Judaistic religion, were shocked. The Jerusalem church was being shaken to its foundation. The basic belief of so many of the early believers – that Jesus had come only to enlarge and extend Judaism – was being challenged. Peter had to give an answer, and it had to be clearly explained and understood.

(ii) The circumcision “segment” of the church was especially aroused. Note that only “the circumcised believers criticized” Peter. The Bible says in Acts 11:2-3 “So when Peter went up to Jerusalem, the circumcised believers criticized him and said, “You went into the house of uncircumcised men and ate with them” The apostles and most of the Christian brothers felt no contention or divisiveness. They trusted Peter’s walk with the Lord and felt sure that he would have an adequate explanation when he had the opportunity to share the experience.

The word “criticized” (diekrinonto) means to stand against, to take an opposite position, to take sides against, to oppose, to create a cleavage, a division. It is creating strife, struggle and discord. They readily and willingly opposed Peter, and the idea is that it was repeated; it went on and on; the issue was prolonged.

Again keep in mind the issue: Peter had carried the Word of God to the Gentiles and (a) allowed the non-Jews to receive the Word of God without circumcising them (v.1) and (b) had broken the law of Moses by going into the house of uncircumcised men and eating with them (v.3)

Lesson 01: Just note three striking lessons:

(a) Some hang on to their religious form, ceremony, rituals, rules and regulations. These are placed before the lives and salvation of men.

(b) Note the true spirit of these legalists. Their spirits should have been rejoicing that some people were now saved and brought to the knowledge of Christ. Instead their spirits were full of contention and divisiveness because some religious practices were violated.

(c) Prejudice, discrimination, rituals and rules can blind us to God’s purpose to reach out to all men in salvation. All men are to be reached no matter who they are. No church should exclude anyone. The church’s mission is to reach both the dirty and the clean, both the lower and the upper class.

Our Lord Jesus said in Matthew 24:14 “And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.”

Jesus said in Matthew 28:19 “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

Jesus said in Mark 16:15 “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.”

Jesus further said in Acts 1:8 “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

Lesson 02: The disciple is called to do the Lord’s will, to reach and evangelize the world. He often has to break tradition and buck the tide of doing things the way they have always been done. When he does, he can expect criticism and contention from the legalist and the traditionalist. Nevertheless, the true disciple of Christ remains faithful even as Peter did. He does what God says. He does all he can to reach out and share Christ with a world filled with desperate needs.

Lesson 03: Some churches commit a terrible crime: they monopolize the gospel, seldom if ever sharing it. They take the gospel and keep it to themselves, shutting all others out, never reaching out to bring others in. They build barriers of exclusiveness and prejudice, shutting themselves off from the rest of the world.

The Bible says in Acts 15:8-9 “God, who knows the heart, showed that He accepted them by giving the Holy Spirit to them, just as He did to us. He did not discriminate between us and them, for He purified their hearts by faith.”

Apostle Paul says in Romans 2:10-11 “But glory, honour and peace for everyone who does good: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile. For God does not show favouritism.”

Paul further says in Romans 10:10-13 “For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved. As Scripture says, “Anyone who believes in him will never be put to shame.” For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

2] God’s Will for the Church’s Vision: A Worldwide Mission:

God’s will for the church’s vision was a worldwide mission. Peter reached out to the contentious. He explained as clearly and straightforwardly as he could. He simply shared what had happened. The outline is sufficient in reviewing the experience. But, please note what Peter stressed: “God’s will” is a worldwide mission, the door of salvation is to be thrown open to the whole world (Gentiles). The stress is upon God’s intervention: God acting, moving, revealing, and making His will clear.

The Bible says in Acts 11:4-15 “Starting from the beginning, Peter told them the whole story: “I was in the city of Joppa praying, and in a trance I saw a vision. I saw something like a large sheet being let down from heaven by its four corners, and it came down to where I was. I looked into it and saw four-footed animals of the earth, wild beasts, reptiles and birds. Then I heard a voice telling me, ‘Get up, Peter. Kill and eat.’ “I replied, ‘Surely not, Lord! Nothing impure or unclean has ever entered my mouth.’ “The voice spoke from heaven a second time, ‘Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.’ This happened three times, and then it was all pulled up to heaven again. “Right then three men who had been sent to me from Caesarea stopped at the house where I was staying. The Spirit told me to have no hesitation about going with them. These six brothers also went with me, and we entered the man’s house. He told us how he had seen an angel appear in his house and say, ‘Send to Joppa for Simon who is called Peter. He will bring you a message through which you and all your household will be saved.’ “As I began to speak, the Holy Spirit came on them as he had come on us at the beginning.”

Yes, Peter stressed:

(i) A trance and vision from God (v.5).

(ii) A large sheet descending from heaven to him (v.5).

(iii) The Lord speaking to him (v.7-8).

(iv) The Lord commanding him three times (v.10).

(v) The large sheet ascending back into heaven (v.10).

(vi) The supernatural timing in the arrival of Cornelius’ servants (v.11).

(vii) The Holy Spirit’s instruction to Peter to go to the Gentiles (v.12).

(viii) The angel’s visit to the Gentile and his instructions to send for Peter (v.13).

(ix) The Holy Spirit falling on the Gentiles even before he had finished (v.15).

(x) The Holy Spirit fell on the Gentiles just as “on us” (v.15).

(xi) The Holy Spirit fell just as the Lord promised (v.16).

(xii) God gave the Holy Spirit to Gentiles just “as He gave to us” (v.17).

Now, note four things:

a) Everything that happened to Peter in opening the door to the Gentiles was of God, initiated and controlled by God. Peter was merely the instrument God used. It was God’s will, God’s work, God’s activity. God’s carrying of the gospel to the world (Gentiles), not Peter’s.

b) There were six witnesses to what happened, each one verifying that the event was all of God. And all these six witnesses were Jewish believers themselves.

c) The words “no hesitation” (v.12) mean making no distinction. God tells Peter in no uncertain terms, “Go with them (the Gentiles) making no distinctions.”

Note the lesson from God’s command to Peter. The same command is given to all believers of all generations. Believers are not to make distinctions, not to discriminate in proclaiming the gospel. What an indictment against so many! How many withdraw from the poor? How many do not reach out to people of other races and social classes?

d) Note the amount of space and detail given by Luke (Author of Acts) to the event. He stresses the event more than any other in the book of Acts. Add to it the long discussion and chapter dealing with the same subject in Acts 15 and its importance becomes even more significant. The importance of God’s will, that the gospel be preached to the whole world, can never be overstressed.

Jesus said in John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

3] The Church’s Response to God’s Will: The Conviction of A Worldwide Mission:

The Bible says in Acts 11:16-18 “Then I remembered what the Lord had said: ‘John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.’ So if God gave them the same gift he gave us who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I to think that I could stand in God’s way?” When they heard this, they had no further objections and praised God, saying, “So then, even to Gentiles God has granted repentance that leads to life.”

Yes, the church’s response to God’s will was the conviction of a worldwide mission.

(i) There was Peter’s conviction. He was convinced of three clear truths:

Truth 01: The Lord’s promise was fulfilled in the Gentiles; the Gentiles were being baptized with the Holy Spirit (John 1:5; John 14:26).

Just note a significant point here: Peter saw that the most significant of the two baptisms (the baptism of water by John and the baptism of Jesus) was the baptism of Jesus, that is, the baptism of the Spirit. He was clearly saying that this was what he saw and understood.

Truth 02: Peter was convinced of another truth: he could not withstand (stand against) God. The Greek is emphasized, “I, who was I so think that I could oppose God?”. Peter had absolutely nothing to do with giving the Holy Spirit to the Gentiles. The gift of the Holy Spirit is God’s doing, and one thing is sure: no man is going to stop God from doing what He purposes to do. It was God’s will that the door of salvation be swung open to the Gentiles and God was doing it.

Truth 03: It is not circumcision – not some ritual, not some ceremony, not religion – but belief that caused the Holy Spirit to enter a life. The Bible says in Acts 11:17 “So if God gave them the same gift he gave us who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I to think that I could stand in God’s way?”

(ii) There was church’s conviction: God grants repentance to all men. Note three significant points here:

(a) Repentance is the gift of God and of the Holy Spirit. If there should be no God, no Holy Spirit, there would be no opportunity to repent. Since both God and the Spirit do exist and are actively working to save men, there is such a thing as repentance. Men have the privilege of repenting, of actually turning from their sin to God. Just note what God expects of men: not religion, not some ritual or ceremony, not social standing or success, not race or knowledge, BUT REPENTANCE.

The Bible says in 2 Chronicles 7:14 “If My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

Prophet Isaiah said in Isaiah 55: “Let the wicked forsake their ways and the unrighteous their thoughts. Let them turn to the Lord, and He will have mercy on them, and to our God, for He will freely pardon.”

That is why Paul says in Acts 17:30-31 “Truly, these times of ignorance God overlooked, but now commands all men everywhere to repent, because He has appointed a day on which He will judge the world in righteousness by the Man whom He has ordained. He has given assurance of this to all by raising Him from the dead.”

(b) Repentance is unto life; that is, it leads to life. Abundant life and eternal life are the end, the consummation, the experience of repentance. The person who repents experiences life immediately and lives on experiencing life to the fullest – forever. He never has and never will taste death.

Jesus said in John 3:36 “He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; and he who does not believe the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him.”

Jesus said in John 5:24 “Most assuredly, I say to you, he who hears My word and believes in Him who sent Me has everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but has passed from death into life.”

Jesus further said in John 11:25-27 “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?” She said to Him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that You are the Christ, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

That is why Paul says in Galatians 6:8 “For he who sows to his flesh will of the flesh reap corruption, but he who sows to the Spirit will of the Spirit reap everlasting life.”

(c) God has thrown open the door of salvation to the world (Gentiles). This is the church’s first “Magna Charta of Missions”, its first stamp of approval to WORLDWIDE EVANGELISM.

Just note the battle is far from over. Selfishness and self-centeredness are difficult to erase from depraved human nature. The battle had to be constantly fought in the early church, and the struggle has continued on down to the present time.

Let us introspect – “How many churches and believers still resist world missions and evangelism either through simple neglect and unconcern or through direct opposition?”

Jesus said in “The Parable of the Wedding Feast” in Matthew 22:8-10 “Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy. Therefore, go into the highways, and as many as you find, invite to the wedding.’ So those servants went out into the highways and gathered together all whom they found, both bad and good. And the wedding hall was filled with guests.”

Remember our Lord Jesus’ “The Great Commission” in Matthew 28:18-20 “And Jesus came and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen.”

Jesus further said in Luke 24:46-48 “Then He said to them, “Thus it is written, and thus it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead the third day, and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. And you are witnesses of these things.”

Again Jesus said in John 20:21 “Peace to you! As the Father has sent Me, I also send you.”

That is why Apostle Paul says in 2 Timothy 4:2 “Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching.”

There is a basic LESSON that we all need to learn, although we’re all slow to learn it. Repeat it after me: “I am not the Lord of the church; JESUS IS!” This is not my church; it’s HIS CHURCH. HE IS IN-CHARGE AND HE CAN DO AS HE PLEASES, AND HE DOESN’T EVEN NEED TO CONSULT WITH ME! If we’re not careful, we can end up standing in God’s way (Acts 11:17).

Let us introspect ourselves.

Shall we allow God’s Word to confront our wrong thinking so that we can grow in Christ and be more usable in His purpose?

Are we still hanging on to our religious form, ceremony, rituals, rules and regulations which are placed before the lives and salvation of men?

Whether our spirits are still full of contention and divisiveness because some religious practices are being violated?

Shall we remove all our prejudice, discrimination, rituals and rules which can blind us to God’s purpose to reach out to all men in salvation?

Shall we have the determination to reach everyone across globe irrespective of who they are?

Shall we be faithful in doing what God says and do all we can to reach out and share our Lord Christ with a world filled with desperate needs?

Are we keeping the gospel to ourselves, shutting all others out and never reaching out to bring others in?

Shall we have the clear understanding that we are merely the instrument in God’s hand to be used to carry the gospel to the world as it is His will, His work and His activity?

Shall we have the clear understanding that God’s will of opening the door of salvation to the Gentiles cannot be stopped by any one and we should not be a stumbling block in fulfilling His will?

Shall we remove our selfishness and self-centeredness and move forward in reaching the unreached across globe?

Let us Pray: Our Heavenly Gracious Father, we thank You for helping us to understand about “what we should do for gaining a worldwide vision” Father. Father, please help us not to hang on to our religion form, ceremony, rituals, rules and regulations which are actually blocking the salvation of people, help us to allow Your Word to confront our wrong thinking so that we can grow in You and be more usable in Your purpose, help us to remove all the contention and divisiveness from our spirits, help us to remove all our prejudice, discrimination, rituals and rules which can blind us to Your purpose to reach out to all men in salvation Father. Father, please help us to have the determination to reach everyone across globe irrespective of who they are, help us to be faithful in doing what You tell us to do so that we can reach out and share Your beloved Son Jesus Christ with the world filled with desperate needs, help us not to keep the gospel with ourselves and shutting ourselves off from the rest of the world in sharing the gospel Father. Father, please help us to have the clear understanding that we are merely the instrument in Your hand to be used to carry the gospel to the world as it is Your will, Your work and Your activity Father besides having the clear understanding that Your will of opening the door of salvation to the Gentiles cannot be stopped by any one and we should not be a stumbling block in fulfilling Your will Father. Father, please help us to remove all our selfishness and self-centeredness and move forward in reaching the unreached across globe Father. Father, please help us to understand Your wisdom, Your will and Your mercy while preaching peace to the world Father. We give all praise, glory and honour to Your Holy Name. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.

God bless you all.

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